The Nightingale's Journey
by MaskedDreamer
Summary: COMPLETE! Loralee Donoghue accidentally gets a job at the Opera Populaire. Later when she becomes ballet mistress a new list of troubles await her including Erik, visits from an admirer, and attacks from her exfiance. EOW R
1. Take Me Away

**Summary: Loralee Donoghue gets a job at the Opera House while running away from her cruel fiance. Later when she becomes ballet mistress a new list of troubles await her including feelings towards Erik, visits from an admirer, and attacks from her ex-fiance. EOW R&R!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own PotO. The only thing I own in this story (so far) is Loralee Donoghue.**

**Read and Review please! I do love comments but if they're blunt "I hate this story" comments I'd rather not get them. You may critize it, though, just know that I've already written the whole story so I most likely won't be changing anything. It's also my first Phan Phiction (or any other type of fan fiction!) so it would really helpful for your feedback. **

**Thank you!**

**MaskedDreamer**

**((The song in this chapter is "Nightingale" by Norah Jones. You'll also find that the chapters get longer as they go along.))**

Chapter One: Take Me Away

She had no sense of where she was. Where she was going was the least of her worries at that very moment in time. She had no time to think about how she must look: a woman dressed in tattered wealthy clothes with dirt stains all over it running blindly through the thick bustle of the Paris afternoon crowds. She never glanced over her shoulder and sprinted for her life onwards. . . onwards. . .

Soon the raging voices behind her quieted to nothing and her deepest fears of getting caught subsided, but she kept on running.

Loralee Donoghue, 20 years old, was currently running for her life away from the horrible troubles of her childhood and current position. If people were to look at her a few hours ago, they would have seen a happy and smiling girl wearing rich fabrics that making up an elaborate dress. The wealthy woman would be hanging onto the arm of a heavenly handsome man. Only the very observant would be able to notice the bruises just poking over her neck line or the cuts that adorned her soft skin. They would also observe that Loralee seemed to have a mask of happiness about, for if you looked deeply into the eyes, past her shield, you would have seen years and years of terror.

Just a few moments ago, the feelings became overwhelming and she had burst, grabbing onto freedom as it came her way. Now she was running until. . .

SMACK!

Loralee went crashing into someone as they stepped out of a large wooden door. She went toppling over onto the person, landing painfully on her wrist. She had to bite her lip to stop from yelping out in pain. She was just getting up and ready to start running again when the person sat up, slightly dazed, and grabbed her hand. Looking back, Loralee saw a girl with long blonde hair and beautifully innocent eyes.

"Wait!" she said in a sweet tone. Loralee stayed behind reluctantly.

"Yes?" Loralee said, trying hard to get across the fact to the young girl that she was in a hurry.

"The managers are waiting for you! They're looking all over for you! Come on, I'll take you to them."

Before Loralee could respond the girl grasped onto her with a surprisingly firm grip and she soon found herself trailing after the little blonde angel into the the depths of what she just figured out was the Opera House.

The architecture astounded her. Their were meticulously carved scenes all over the walls and ceilings. Paintings were on the ceiling, too, and a large chandelier hung like a queen bee at the top of the roof. On the stage were two old looking men and in front of the stage and on back were people milling about, all obviously part of the Opera crew or people coming to try out.

"Monsieur André! Firmin! I believe I've found the woman you're looking for!"

Fear stabbed at Loralee suddenly as the little girl led her up onto the stage to face the two men that she recognized as the Opera managers André and Firmin. She tried to get her hand back from the girl and run but the little blonde angel took the signs of Loralee's struggles as fear and just soothingly patted her arm.

"Don't be shy, madame," said André, extending his hand. "It's a pleasure you've finally come, Natalia Williams."

Loralee stared at him but finally it dawned on her. The managers thought she was a girl who was late for the auditions. They had no idea that a rich grown gypsy man was chasing after her this very second.

"I'm sorry, Messieurs, but I am not Natalia Williams. There must have been a mistake."

"Oh," said Firmin, looking quite disappointed. André chewed on his mustache for a little before a flicker of hope light up his eyes.

"Would you mind singing for us, at least? You look as if you need a job, Madame. . . Madame. . . ?"

"Uh. . ."

Could Loralee tell these people her real names? She shouldn't because the men looking for her could come right in here and ask for her and that would be the end of her freedom. Or maybe even her life. With that in mind, she made up a name off the top of her head.

"Uh, McLay. . . Beth McLay. And I'm not a madame."

_Where the heck did that come from?_ she thought. _I hate that name! And _McLay_? How did I get that?"_

"Right, Mademoiselle McLay. Could you please step into the center of the stage and whenever you're ready sing a song that you know," Firmin said as if it were as easy as cake. They walked away leaving her alone on the stage and sat down in the theaters first pew of seats.

Loralee panicked as she finally got to the middle of the stage. What was she going to sing? What if she made a great big fool of herself? _Wait!_ she thought. _I didn't agree to sing for them or try out!_ But before she could say anything, André got rather impatient and repeated, "Whenever. . ."

Taking a big gulp, Loralee started with a song she heard not too long ago.

"_Nightingale _

_Sing us a song _

_Of a love that once belonged _

_Nightingale _

_Tell me your tale _

_Was your journey far too long? _

_Does it seem like I'm looking for an answer _

_To a question I can't ask _

_I don't know which way the feather falls _

_Or if I should blow it to the left _

_Nightingale _

_Sing us a song _

_Of a love that once belonged _

_Nightingale _

_Tell me your tale _

_Was your journey far too long?_

_All the voices that are spinnin' around me _

_Trying to tell me what to say _

_So can I fly right behind you _

_And you can take me away_

_All the voices that are spinnin' around me _

_Trying to tell me what to say _

_So can I fly right behind you _

_And you can take me away_

_You can take me away"_

As the last note dwindled away, Loralee opened her eyes that had some how become closed. A calm quiet came over the whole of the Opera House. Loralee panicked and looked around, trying to see everybodies opinion.

Before she could even look, Firmin was clapping happily and it seemed as if everything had gone back to normal. The buzz of talk went out again, clatters and loud sounds echoed through back stage, and the laughter of the corps de ballet echoed through the theater.

"Bravo, my dear Mademoiselle McLay! Bravo! I think Madame Williams will not be coming any more into the chorus of the Paris Opera house because you have clearly made your mark."

Loralee dazedly looked at them, not believing anything.

She had gotten into the Opera House chorus by mere accident. Things were looking pretty good for her future.

Trying to say something to the managers to express her feelings of up most joy and gratitude, Loralee only ended up having gibberish spill out of her mouth before she fainted right there, none too gracefully falling down into the middle of the stage.


	2. Nightmares and New Beginnings

**Alright, this is annoying. My Microsoft Word isn't working anymore so I'm going to have to upload all the stories on the downstairs computer. I might take a little longer to post them up because of that. Terribly sorry! **

**I also forgot to mention in the last chapter that I chose "Nightingale" by Norah Jones because it has this slight irish tune to it. . . okay, not really, but it's better than some others. I also forgot to mention that you won't have any true Erik/Loralee interaction until late (I think around chapter ten). **

**Thanks and enjoy!**

Chapter Two: Nightmares and New Beginnings

_"My little Loralee, I'd like to introduce you to Monsieur Hector Chaffee. Monsieur Chaffee, this is my daughter Loralee Donoghue."_

_"It's a pleasure to meet you Monsieur Chaffee."_

_"Same to you, Mademoiselle Donoghue."_

_"Loralee, if you please," she muttered, blushing deeply and looking down at his shinned shoes._

_"And Hector, if you wish," he said back, taking her hand and squeezing it tightly._

_Her mother, sensing they'd wish to be alone, claimed she had to go and start her embroidery, and hurried awayquickly, shutting the door behind her. Hector lifted Loralee's head up so it was facing his, a quality of love and caring etched all over his bright brown eyes. _

_The scene swirled to one of Loralee and Hector walking hand in hand down the river during a summer sunset, birds flying in the sky. They were laughing and sharing their inner most secrets to each other, slowly getting closer and closer together._

_Another swirl and there was Loralee in Hector's parlor, crying tears of joy as her went down on one knee and promised her eternal love with a diamond ring of marriage. She accepted most graciously, and then he slipped the ring onto her finger._

_Another swirl. Loralee was humming to herself as she ambled most happily down a street during the Paris night. She heard a lady's giggle and a man's husky voice whispering seductive words in the shadows up ahead. Passing them, Loralee couldn't help but glance their way, freezing in place as she saw who the two drunk people were. _

_Yet again: a swirl. The heavy smell of alcohol laden in Hectors breath beat down upon her face as he accused her one day of stealing ten thousand of his francs. She cried in pain as his rough hand pulled her hair back roughly, the other twisting her wrist until there was a ear splitting crack. She burst out in feigned apologies, even though she was innocent, and crumpled to the ground, her world going black after he kicked her squarely in the back of the head._

_The swirling then got faster and worse, making her dizzy._

_Swirl. His hand connected with her jaw._

_Swirl. She saw a bruise of his hand form slowly on her neck._

_Swirl. He slammed her up into the wall, baring down dangerously on _

_her._

_Swirl. The feeling of clothes being ripped off._

_Swirl. Her cutting her own wrists in wish of cutting her own string of life._

_Soon it just went into swirls of evil grins, brown eyes dangerously flaming, pain all over, and Hectors evil laugh echoing all over. Loralee screamed, clawing at her face to make the sound go away and dropped through the swirling vortex._

Loralee sat up screaming. Her finger nails were digging into her cheeks and tears of fear were pouring down her cheeks. Gasping for breath and thanking God that it was just a dream, Loralee calmed herself with deep breaths. Opening her eyes, she looked around.

She was lying in a small and dinky bed, only a heavy woolen blanket covering her from the cold winter air. Immediately goose bumps broke out and she started to shiver. The room was small and contained a vanity, a closet, a wash stand and basin, her bed, and a mirror covering the far wall.

She shifted to get a better look at the room and she felt an unusual cloth against her body. Looking down she saw she was clothed in thin linen night shift with no arms and a rather low neck line lined with fraying lace. It didn't help with the crisp air, either.

Looking in the mirror, Loralee saw how she was a mess. Her black hair was mussed all over, sticking out and frizzing with knots. There were slight dents from her finger nails on her cheeks and her eyes were red and puffy from tiredness and crying. She also noticed her wrist wrapped up and a severe pain shooting through it whenever she tried to move it. Her eyes lowering, Loralee gasped with disbelief, crying out a strangled cry of surprise.

The night gown was clearly showing off the scars she bore and the recent scrapes and bruises from her last encounter with. . . with him. She tried to cover them up with her night shift but had no luck in doing so. They still showed out bright and clear on her arms and upper chest.

Covering her head and crying silently, Loralee fell back onto the pillows wondering if the people who had dressed her had seen them and if they told the managers who immediately decided to fire her.

Oh, how she hoped that was not the case!

Now, completely forgetting the cold, Loralee silently cried herself to sleep.

"Excuse me, Mademoiselle, but do you know where I might find the fitting rooms?"

Loralee was purely flustered on her first day of work. Back stage of the Opera house was pure turmoil and it was almost impossible to memorize the song the Opera was about to perform. It was a rendition of William Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream." She had one speaking line and all the rest she was just supposed to flit around, act dramatically, and sing her heart out. Right now she was trying to find Madame Perry for costume fittings. She didn't even have real clothes to wear. Instead, she was running around back stage in her night shift with her blanket wrapped tightly around her body to cover her half naked body and her scars. She found the blonde angel from yesterday and immediately knew she could trust her.

"Of course! And, oh dear, you do need some clothes! Come with me! I'm Meg Giry, just to let you know."

"Thanks a lot Meg. I'm Beth McLay."

She followed the girl to a place in the farther back reaches of the backstage where a pleasantly plump lady was milling about with a ruler and measuring fabrics, pins sticking out of her mouth. Meg cleared her throat and the Madame Perry looked up, a smile sweeping her rosy cheeked face as she saw Meg.

"Hello little Giry!" she said happily, setting aside the ruler and taking the pins out of her mouth. "What would you like now?"

"Not me, Madame, but this girl here. Beth McLay. She was just hired yesterday as a chorus girl and needs her costumes for the play."

Meg nudged Loralee forward and she hesitantly came towards Madame Perry, clutching the blanket closer around her body, face turning paler than normal, dusky blue eyes sticking out rather too clearly.

"Come my dear. There's no need to be shy! Come, I'll help you get your first scene costume."

Meg sat down but immediately jumped back up, hand clutching her mouth, when Madame Perry took the blanket out of Loralee's tight clutch and pulled it off her body. She rushed over to Loralee and took on of her hands.

"Beth! Oh, dear, dear Beth! These scratches and bruises are not a day old! How in the world did your body come to get these?"

Loralee just shrugged, trying not to break down, and she blinked repeatedly, trying to keep her newly sprung tears at bay. She just thanked God that Meg only noticed the sparsely scattered new ones and not the immortal scars that were harder to see. Madame Perry's eyes narrowed, though, and soon she gasped, running one of her warm fingers along a scar on Loralee's wrist. Loralee gasped, jumped, and clutched her wrist to her chest.

"My dear! What in the world lead you to become like this?" Madame Perry exclaimed, care and pity filling her speech. She pulled Loralee into a friendly hug just as she broke down, tears spilling down her cheeks, out of her already puffy red eyes.

She stayed like that until all her tears were out. Madame Perry just rocked her back and forth in her arms and cooed at her softly, stroking her back much like one does to a frightened child. Meg had to leave to go to her ballet practice and left only after giving Loralee one big hug, making sure not to hurt her by pressing into any of the bigger bruises. Soon Loralee was left standing there, drying her tears and shuddering while taking deep breaths.

"All right. . . First I think we better get you the costume from the first scene. . ." Madame Perry went off to the real work. Soon Loralee had her outfits for the whole entire play. She wrapped the blanket around her again but Madame Perry made three "tsking" sounds and pulled it off of her leaving Loralee to try and cover her body, shivering from the cold.

"You're not leaving until I get you something to wear, either."

Loralee just stared at Madame Perry while she went away into a room for a few minutes.

"Let's see. . . Hmm. . . No, too low, too high, long, a-ha! I've found the perfect dress for you my dear."

Madame Perry came back out and handed Loralee a deep red dress with black ribbons and lace decorating the slightly long skirts. The top was tight, and the neck line was high enough to cover all the scars on her torso but still showed off some skin about her collar bones. The sleeves were long and tight, sure to cover the red scars on her wrists. It came with a woolen black shawl for the cold weather, a corset, and other undergarments needed.

"Go and get dressed behind the screen there. I'm sure it will bring out your hair."

Loralee, still goggling at the dress, had to be ushered behind the screen by Madame Perry. Slowly she peeled off her night shift and pulled on the undergarments. The corset took her a while even with some help from Madame Perry on the upper strings and she barely even needed it. All her days with Him made her underweight and look like a street rat. Slipping on the dress, Loralee savored the feel of warm fabric against her skin. She came out and tried to mat down her hair which was quite easy seeing her hair was could never stay in one position for so long.

"Ah, my dear, you are truly a beauty! Now go! Messieurs André and Firmin should be looking for you."


	3. Lost and Found

**First things first: **

**I'd like to send the biggest thanks out to my first (and so far only) reviewer: _Mademoiselle Justicia_. You're review was very helpful and honestly made my day. I'm using one of those story breaks in this chapter when it goes into Erik's POV and I hope it'll help you:)**

**This chapter does have a little bit of Erik and Loralee interaction but definitely nothing big. **

**Enjoy!**

**MaskedDreamer**

Chapter Three: Lost and Found

"No no no! It's not that high, Senora, remember!"

Loralee watched as Monsieur Reyer worked with la Carlotta who had just come back to take her place at the Opera, her first time since the Opera House burnt down. She was having trouble with the one song she sang at the end and it was taking up all after noon to get it finished with. Loralee had to stifle many yawns as she sat off to the side.

Just as la Carlotta got another mistake and Loralee was about to go berserk, someone came walking towards her. She looked up and recognized the person as Meg.

"Hey Beth!" she said, plopping down besides her. Loralee was about to say "Hello Meg" but it ended up as a chance for the biggest yawn to come tumbling out of her mouth. Closing her mouth quickly and covering her mouth with her hand, Loralee blushed and looked around to see if any one saw. At the far side of the room a woman with hair a bit darker than Meg's and a very sharp face glared at her for almost disturbing the practices. Shamed, Loralee looked down, hoping she didn't get on that woman's bad side. Meg sensed her dread and just patted her back reassuringly.

"Don't worry, that's my mom, Madame Giry. Somehow she found out about your scars and has taken pity on you. She does that rarely."

"I must be special," Loralee said with a joking tone. Meg giggled which granted them another glare from her mother. Both stopped and looked on at Carlotta's singing. When she started working on a very high part, both had to cover their ears. Loralee was amused to see Madame Giry also flinch and cower a little at the unwelcoming sound of Carlotta's horridly high screaching.

As soon as practices were over, Meg grabbed Loralee's hand and rushed her off the stage and into the chaos of backstage. Meg pulled her through it and into a corridor where they entered a room Loralee didn't recognize.

The unfamiliar room had mirrors lining one wall with make up scattered all over the tables. There were many dressing screens and people filled the small space, fighting over which blush to wear when they got out of their costumes.

"This, Beth, is the dressing room."

"Mayhem at it's finest. . ." Loralee muttered to herself as she was shoved none too graciously out of the way of a tall ballerina. Meg heard her and couldn't stop a giggle that came out. One of the ballerinas heard and turned around.

"Meg darlin'! How goes it with you?"

"Just fine, Jammes. Just showing the new chorus member around."

Jammes, a pretty little girl, even younger than Meg, turned towards Loralee, a large pumpkin smile breaking over her flawless face. Her voice rose a few octaves as she said, "Welcome, my dear! I'm Jammes, and you are. . ."

"Beth McLay."

"My dear Beth, you have just come to the finest place in all of France. Best wine, best shops, best parties, and, of course, the best men!" She giggled and hiccuped, clearly a little drunk.

"Oh, Jammes, you should know!" said another girl besides her with bright red hair. "Who now are you lovin'?"

"Umm. . . Dear Monsieur Barker left a week ago for work in America but I have been eyeing the handsome chap in the orchestra!"

"Who? Edward? Taylor?" Meg asked, sitting down in a chair and combing her hair out. Loralee just stood behind her, looking quite out of place.

"No, no, no! I think I'm in love with Quincy!" Jammes said dramatically and all the girls giggled, oohed, and ahhed.

The talk went on and Loralee found herself getting more bored by the second. Soon she decided it was best to leave before she blew the top off, and she told Meg she was retiring to her room.

Stepping out of the mayhem, Loralee sighed as she shut the door behind her and felt welcomed by the dark of the cold corridor. Shivering, she pulled her shawl around her shoulders tighter and hurried off towards what she thought was the direction of her dressing room.

The way she thought was correct only led her into smaller and colder passages that she had never seen before. Her quiet feet padded silently along the halls as she started to get scared: face pale, eyes wide, and heart beating fast.

Along her way through the halls she didn't know, Loralee didn't pass anyone and only some doors with multiple laughs issuing out. She was too shy to go over and knock on any of them. In fact, she just got more scared at the sight of them and started running, hair falling out of the bun she had been wearing.

Soon, a large wooden door loomed over her. Loralee opened and walked through it and immediately recognizing it as the chapel Meg had been talking about. With this room in mind, she knew which direction to go to get to her room.

Turning around swiftly, she made to run back out and only collided with a shut door. Loralee fell to the ground, eyes straining not to roll to the back of her head. Blinking furiously to get the stars away and clutching her head while clenching her teeth in pain, Loralee raised herself by supporting herself with the wall.

_That's funny, _she thought, brow furrowed. _I didn't shut the door when I came in._

This fact only made her panic more. She let out a strangled cry of confusion and fright. While hurrying forward to open the door and run out, she stopped short, something catching her eye as if it moved - no, more like _melted_ - out of the shadows.

Gasping, Loralee whirled around, eyes coming to rest on a pair of flaming green eyes.

A large figure, definitely over six feet, loomed in front of her. It was clad all in black. She made to scream but couldn't because suddenly her attention was drawn to the right side of his face where it bore a white porcelain mask.

It was the Phantom of the Opera.

Too much confusion, stress, fright, and tiredness swept over her and her eyes finally won, rolling into the back of her head, leaving her to crumple to the ground unconcious.

Before she did so, she felt two hands catch her body.

For the past year, Erik had been craving for his lost love Christine. There was a deep void in his heart which was left ever since Christine left him to be with Raoul.

_Damn fop, _Erik thought, growling to himself as he paced around his lair. Turning towards the organ, he stared at it's keys, longing to make music out of it.

_No, I promised I wouldn't make a single noise from that thing ever since Christine left me. . ._

Sighing, Erik sat down only to jump back up again quickly, longing for movement and something to do. Running his hand through his hair, he thought. Finally he grabbed his mask, his cloak, and gloves and jumped into his gondola, swiftly steering it through the water.

Jumping out at the other end, Erik started walking along the dark and damp passages, not minding the rats that were scurrying all over the ground. Coming up to a trapdoor that opened up into the storage room, he got out quickly, and melted into the shadows.

Additions had been held the past day for the three vacant spots in the chorus and he thought he might go check the new singers out. It wouldn't be hard to find them They usually radiated with nervousness and fear.

Walking utter silently through the halls, he went to the hall where the dressing rooms were. There he found two of the three girls. They were in their rooms and going to bed, not yet ready for the life in dressing rooms. Both seemed fine to have, although they didn't seem like they'd have the best voices. Both he guessed were hired out of pure need to fill in two of the three spaces. There was a newly opened bed room in a different hall way but no one was inside.

_Ah good! _he said. _This room has a mirror. Maybe, I'll catch a glimpse of them later. . ._

He went away from the room to go and just have a nightly stroll through the dark hallways of the Opera house. As he got farther and farther away from all the life that was in the halls, he searched his mind for something to entertain himself with.

Erik only stopped thinking when he sensed utter desperation and fear radiating out in the next hall way.

Slipping farther into the shadows he waited until a girl came stumbling silently into the hallway. He watched her, slightly amused, as she looked around in fear. Not recognizing her, Erik decided she was the third new singer. He was about to leave, his task of seeing all the new singers completed, until he noticed that the fear around her wasn't just from being somewhere new.

No, this new little chorus rat was lost in the deep clutches of the Opera House.

Her hands ran across the wall, her blue blazing eyes searched for a familiar sight, and her dress was starting to crumple. Even her hair was coming out of the tight bun it was in. Her face was also paler than he thought any one could be.

It was a near white!

She ran down the hallway and he followed her out of pure interest. Her foot falls were silent as she quickly raced down random halls, only managing to get herself even more lost. She only stopped when she came across the large wooden door Erik recognized.

The door to the chapel.

Clenching his jaw tight and shunning away the memories he remembered from this room, he followed her inside, deciding to have a little fun with her frail and confused figure.

Understanding of where she was and a faint flicker of hope shot through the girl's eyes as she realized she was in the chapel. She was breathing a sigh of relief as Erik softly shut the door behind her, an idea coming on. Melting yet once again into the shadows, he watched as she turned around and ran smack into the door. She staggered backwards, clutching her head in pain and then crumpled to the floor. The girl slowly got back up on her feet and looked confusedly at the door. Soon a look of deep fear, desperation, and confusion dawning on her face as she let out a strangled cry. As she stepped forward to open the door, Erik made his entrance, making sure she was able to see him.

Indeed she did and she whirled around at him.

Her blazing blue eyes swerved onto his green eyes and he stopped walking towards her. Fighting past the blue fire in her eyes, he saw a girl with a horrid past and a few other feeling he couldn't place.

They stared at each other for a while, Erik not sure what to do. His mind was yelling at him to move his muscles but they just stayed frozen in place. Instead of his own confusion and anger showing, he cleared his face of all emotion and looked down at her.

The girl looked at his profile, her eyes piercing his in a way that made him uncomfortable, as if she could see past any of his boundaries or walls. She didn't notice his mask at first for which some reason made him even more angry, and instead she just looked at the rest of him. Finally, when eyes slid back up to meet his, she noticed the mask and to his thrill, she lost control and fainted.

He would have just let her crumple but for some strange reason he felt connected to this girl. His arms automatically shot out and caught her frail figure before she could cause more harm to her than needed, and he just stood like that for a moment, amazed at his own actions.

There was the so called dead Phantom of the Opera saving a girl from hitting her head on the ground. Shunning away the thought, Erik got a better grip of the girl and started walking again through the halls.

As he walked, he observed her. She looked a lot better than she did before seeing that her face turned at least a healthier shade of white and she was now relaxed in dreams of a wonder land.

He only stopped, frightened out of his wits, when in her sleep a hand of hers sneaked up and about his neck, her head snuggling into his chest. He was about to drop her, surprised at the act of any human willing to be closer to him but he just reminded himself over and over again that she was asleep and had no control over what she was doing.

With that thought in mind, he managed to get her back to her room and laid her down on her small rickety bed.

He felt he couldn't just leave her like that on the bed for some strange reason, and so he took out her hair, letting the black strands fall out over her shoulders and back. She looked a lot more care free and beautiful that way with her hair down and Erik couldn't help but finger one of the silky locks of hair. Then he braced himself as he took off her dress, seeing it was the only one she had and she wouldn't want it crumpled up for the next day. He took it off and her corset, letting her lay in the bed with only her under dress on.

He was about to pull the wimpy woolen blanket up over her now peaceful frame when he noticed something that made him gasp involuntarily.

Showing just above the neck line on her dress and on her wrists were bruises, cuts, and scars. Some were old, maybe about five years, where as some others were almost a day old. He ran a leather clad finger down one on her wrist and she shivered, curling up and cradling her hand in her sleep, a look of fear spreading over her once peaceful face.

Realization dawned over him. This new chorus girl had must of had a horrid back ground and was coming here for shelter and a safer life.

_Good luck,_ he thought to the girl as he pulled the woolen blanket up and over her. She still didn't stop shivering and after much debating with himself he took off his own heavy velvet cloak and draped it over her small frame. She stopped shuddering immediately and went yet again into a peaceful stage of dreams.

Before he left, he made sure to leave his own signs that he had visited.


	4. A Rose, A Cloak, and a Talk

**I'm so sorry this is out late but the Harry Potter book just came out so it got me hooked for a bit too long! My family has also had guests over so that also takes away from my time on the computer.**

**I'd just like to thank Mademoiselle Justicia for reviewing again. The comments were helpful and I have to agree with you: GO ERIK!**

Chapter Four

"Mademoiselle! _Mademoiselle!_"

A sharp wrapping on the door woke Loralee out of her deep sleep. She opened her mouth to talk but yet again, like the day before at practice, another long jaw cracking yawn burst out. She rubbed her eyes open, feeling warmer than ever, and said out loud, "Come in!"

Madame Giry opened her door and walked in. She had a soft yet piercing look upon her face and turned to talk to Loralee but stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the large black cloak that enveloped the just waking Loralee.

"My dear Beth McLay! Where in the world did you get that. . . that. . ."

She was unable to finish her question and instead stared dumbfounded at the Phantom's cloak. _Oh, Erik. . . _she thought. _Not again. Not now! And why _this _girl out of all?_

Loralee only noticed the soft velvet against her skin when Madame Giry stared at it. Gasping herself, the memories of the night came flooding back.

_This is the Phantom's cloak! _ she thought surprised. _No, don't be stupid Loralee. It was just some stage hand or you were just seeing things._

Fingering the lush fabrics that made the cloak, Loralee slipped her feet out of the bed. As she did so, she noticed how she was in her under garments. The bruises and cuts showed clearly out on her pale skin and a sickening thoughts came to mind.

The stage hand, or whoever they were, had seen the marks when they got her ready for bed! Loralee looked fearfully up at Madame Giry, covering herself with the cloak, but Madame Giry had already seen the marks.

A look of utter confusion was plastered over Madame Giry's face. She had heard of the scars this Beth has been carrying from her little daughter Meg, and had come to find out the truth from Beth. When she entered, she was only to be bombarded with more questions.

Looking up into Beth's face, Madame Giry saw fear because Madame Giry had seen the scars, not the cloak. The girl herself looked puzzled at the lush piece of clothing.

"Beth, we must talk. . ."

Loralee wasn't paying attention, though, because otherwise she would have thought a terrible end of her job here at the Opera Populaire was coming. No, instead her attention was drawn to a blood red rose on her vanity with a black silk ribbon tied around the stem. Next to it was a note on black edged parchment.

She got up, quickly passing Madame Giry who was settling herself into a rickety chair by the bed and hesitantly picked up the note. _Perhaps it is from the stage hand who got me, _she thought hopefully. The note was very quickly scrawled in blood red ink in a untidy handwriting.

_Dear Loralee Donoghue,_

_Do not expect me to bring you back next time you get lost, so keep and eye out for where you are. Keep the cloak but don't say where you got it from._

_O.G._

The first thing she did was panic.

_How in the world does he know my name! I don't even know his! Who is this O.G.?_

"Mademoiselle McLay, what is that?"

Madame Giry came and snatched the letter out of Loralee's hands, fearing what it said when she saw the perfect rose that came with it.

"NO!" Loralee shouted out, trying to grasp it back but Madame Giry held it out of reach and read it out loud. Loralee had broken down in sobs, her secret now being revealed, and sunk to the floor in a flurry of black. As Madame Giry finished it, she stared at it bewildered for a moment and then back down to Loralee, her guess of who Beth was proving truthful.

"So. . . So you're the girl that Hector Chaffee is looking for? Loralee Donoghue? That name does suit you better than Beth McLay."

Loralee blinked in shock at Madame Giry. She wasn't pulling her up by the ear and dragging her away to the police! Madame Giry instead just calmly looked down at Loralee, understanding on her face.

"Oh, don't worry Loralee. I've covered up for you. I figured out you were her yesterday when I heard about your scars from Meg and then the next second Monsieur Chaffee came in asking if I'd seen a girl in a tattered dress and long raven hair named Loralee Donoghue. After hearing the stories of your sobs I figured out you'd rather be left alone, so I told him I haven't. Also, we don't want to lose a wonderful singer, now do we?"

Loralee's jaw went slack.

"But. . . but Madame. How. . . I. . . You. . . But. . . Why?"

She couldn't string together a sentence let alone think at all. Before Madame Giry could answer, Loralee finally found a deep love and respect for Madame Giry and she threw her arms around Giry's surprised and stiff body. Luckily, she loosened, chuckled, and patted Loralee's back much like a mother to a daughter.

"Thank you!" Loralee said, managing to blink back tears of relief. She got up, smoothed out her under garments, which she had slept in, and picked up the cloak while Madame Giry just smiled warmly at her. When Madame Giry's gaze shifted to the cloak, her face when tight again.

"Loralee, we need to talk about how you got that cloak and. . . and the rose."

"Okay," Loralee said, sensing the urgency in the talk. She settled down on the end of her bed, running her fingers lightly over the warm black velvet. It smelt of sandalwood and a sort of damp cold, as if it had been through mist and fog many times. The smell itself was mystifying and very lovely making her eyes glaze over and a small smile come to her lips.

"When did you find out about this cloak?" Madame Giry asked.

"Just this morning, after you noticed it," she said, wondering why in the world Madame Giry was so interested in it.

"And. . . and did you ever see its bearer?"

"Well, at least I think I did," she pondered, guessing it was from the stage hand. Madame Giry went stiff.

"Tell me everything."

"Okay. . ."

Loralee was now getting really uncomfortable. She felt like a child who got caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar.

"Yesterday after practice, Meg took me to the dressing rooms. I got tired and rather disgusted after a while so I told Meg how I was going to go back to my room. I went out but got lost on my way back. I was very frightened so I started running and soon found myself in the chapel. I knew my way back from there so I was turning to leave when I smashed into the door which was shut. I almost got knocked out but I stayed conscience. It was strange, though, because I didn't shut the door. Getting really frightened, I rushed to open it, but while I did so I saw a shadow move in the corner of my eye. Turning around I came face to face with a man all clad in black. Looking up, I saw it was wearing a porcelain half mask."

Loralee saw Madame Giry close her eyes and breath out, face turning pale.

"He started towards me but stopped when I looked him in the eyes; it was very strange. I felt an unknown feeling towards him but was too frightened to comprehend it. Then I fainted, being so overwhelmed and frightened, and only remember two strong hands catching me as I fell."

Madame Giry's eyes snapped open hearing that.

"I'm not sure who it was, but my first thought was that it was the Phantom of the Opera. Now that I reflect back on my thoughts, I find that was a childish of me to think so, and it must have just been a stage hand trying to frighten me."

Loralee failed to notice Madame Giry let out a sigh of relief.

"I do wish to know who this O.G. person is. do you have any ideas?" Loralee innocently asked Madame Giry.

"I'm not sure," she answered. "There must be a few Owens or Olivers in the crew but I don't think you should go looking for the man who gave you a cloak. It could. . . distract you."

Madame Giry rose, Loralee following suit.

"Loralee, I suggest you get ready for practices. We have a performance tomorrow and need everyone to be at their best state. After practice don't dwindle, and find your way back to your room while it's still light. A nice hot bath would feel great, also. Just get some of the maids to draw up some water and soaps."

She went over to the door and was about to go through but then turned back around to face Loralee.

"I promise I won't tell anyone of who you really are. You will still be known as Beth McLay to the Opera Populaire. Also, keep the cloak, but I advise you to follow that letter and not tell any one of where you got it from. It appears I'm not the only one who knows your real history. If someone does ask you where you got it from, say. . . say I gave it to you."

And with that, Madame Giry went away to leave Loralee to get ready for practices that day.


	5. Dance of Rebirth

**Here's chapter five. I'm sorry I'm not posting the chapters in any select order. I usually just post them when I have free time and am in the mood (yes, I have very strange mood swings. One second I could be glued to the internet but then the next I wouldn't be able to believe I could do such a thing when I have wonderful books to read). **

**I'd like to give some thanks:**

**Mademoiselle Justicia: Thanks again for your reviewing! I love you for it! I'm glad you liked the Madame Giry part. She's not going away any time soon, has a rather large role in this story also.**

**Priestess of Anubis: Thanks for writing. Even if it's simple it still means a lot to me. I hope this chapter will satisfy you.**

**Enjoy!**

**MaskedDreamer**

Chapter Five: Dance of Rebirth

"No, no, _no!" _Madame Giry wrapped her cane against the floor, making everybody turn towards her, even the chorus members who were just starting to retire for the day.

A week had gone by since Loralee's strange interaction with the so called "Phantom," if it even was the Phantom. She had come to realize that it was more and more likely for the mysterious man in a mask to be a stage hand who'd had a bit too much to drink and thought he'd have some fun with the newest Opera Populaire member. They had performed one opera, and although she was just a mere chorus member and no one barely noticed her, she still got a bouquet of flowers. It was from the Giry's and Loralee's heart went out to them. She even used her free time to make the best lemon cake she knew how to make in the kitchens after much arguing from the chief for them.

"I won't let you girls go until you, Mademoiselle August Wells, have perfected this move."

The little curly red headed girl blushed crimson and clumsily got up from where she had fallen on the floor. All the other members of the corps de ballet groaned and whispered unpleasant comments behind their hands about August who now did her dance with pure determination.

Loralee watched as August danced, and she felt a tingle through her bones and muscles. Suddenly, she stood up, a fierce urge of wanting to move coursing through her body. She drank in all the moves August was performing and looked around.

_This won't do,_ Loralee thought, shaking her head. _There's too many people. I'll surely make a fool of myself._

Quickly moving away from the stage and through the crowd of back stage, Loralee went into her room. She decided she'd follow her urge and go into her new favorite room of the Opera House and dance.

In her younger years, when she was about eight, Loralee had a great love of dancing around the countryside. Soon she was traveling to a nearby city to take dancing lessons with the more gifted dancers. She had danced, learned, and mastered every single step and technique at a rather young age. While dancing, she also took a joy in singing which seemed to come rather easily to her.

She had only stopped dancing 5 years ago when she met Hector Chaffee, or at least, when she figured out who Hector really was. He didn't like her dancing for some strange reason (but then again, he didn't really like her doing _anything_), and she would only stop after he twisted both her ankles when she protested. He promised he'd break both of them next time she ever moved in a way that hinted ballet around him again.

But tonight - a night with no Hector - Loralee would end that running record of non dancing and brush her fears away.

Anyway, no one would see her in the depths of the Opera House when most people are resting or going out to the market in their free time.

She stripped down into her under dress seeing she didn't have anything else to wear that allowed her to move free. Shuddering at the scars on her body, the bruises and minor cuts now gone, she realized she didn't have any ballet slippers or pointe shoes.

Figuring out she'd just have to snitch a pair from the costume room, she slipped on the heavy black cape, which was many sizes too big for her, and quietly slipped out of her room.

After about twenty minutes of waiting for the right moments, sly and stealthy moves, and hiding from many pairs of eyes, Loralee was racing down the corridors or the Opera house, all of them now familiar, with a pair of rather worn out, but still functional and fitting, pointe shoes.

The past week, besides the time she baked that lemon cake, Loralee had taken a great interest to wander the corridors, memorizing every bit of it she could. Soon it seemed she new the whole place by heart in the light or the darkness.

One room she had discovered while wandering was secluded off from the rest. It was rather big, about the size of the stage, and one side of it was lined with mirrors and a bar for ballet stretches and warm ups. Seeing that there was lots of dust all around and no marks what so ever in it, she figured out it was unknown to the rest of the Opera Populaire.

Loralee, finding it very comforting as if it was her home, had dusted it out and taken to singing in it, walking or sitting in it, or gazing and getting lost in the depths of the mirror. Sometimes the mirror would give her inspiration and she'd make up her own dance or song to preform in it's welcoming solitude.

Tonight she'd put the room to use in the proper way.

Immediately settling down in the middle of the room, Loralee started putting on the pointe shoes. As she did so, many good memories of living in her home town of Sligo, Ireland came back to her. She remembered the sun rises and sun sets that she woke up to and went to bed with everyday. She remembered sneaking about the land while everybody else was asleep and dancing in the tall grass. She remembered her fathers great stories and her mothers delicious stews. She remembered her older brothers playing with their friends out in the hills while caring for the dozens of sheep they owned.

Then she remembered Hector and her beautiful memory shattered. A stronger determination to dance coursed through her blood as she fought to shove the memory aside, but it would not budge. Loralee could clearly remember the sharp pain in her dainty ballerina ankles when she promised him that she would not dance again while lacing up her pointe shoes.

Now Loralee realized it's best if some promises are broken.

Standing up after finishing, she looked at herself in the mirror.

Her ballerina body form had been long gone and instead replaced by the unhealthy underweight girl with many scars of the past. Her body seemed to have shrunken, and her her waist had considerably skinned. Loralee's face had become unnaturally pale, but the days at the Opera Populaire were helping her come back to her normal old self. She knew that her old perfect image would never fully come back, though, and cursed the truth.

Starting with some basic warm ups, Loralee already felt the strains of not practicing for five years. None the less, she got up and practiced some leg movements on the bar. After she had gone through each step she new about once, she thought back to Mademoiselle August and the moves she was doing.

And off she went.

The rhythm of the dance was locked inside of her mind and she hit every beat perfectly. Every one of her jumps, twirls, and feet movement were correct (although a little shaky and rough) and her hands moved as if they were water. Now and then she caught glances of herself in the mirror and tutted because she would see how her feet were slightly off queue or her arms are more stiff than they should have been.

She finished the dance and practiced parts over again that she messed up on. Her toes were already throbbing, but instead of the throbbing in all her scars, it was a joyful and wonderful throbbing bringing Loralee pure bliss. A smile broke over her face as she finally realized how much she had missed dancing and how lucky she was to be doing it now.

Laughing out loud for joy, Loralee jumped up again. Ignoring the pain in her feet she set off to do the dance all through the late afternoon, supper, and evening, only retiring when she felt as if her legs and arms would fall off her body.

XxXxXxX

This pattern of doing chorus and then going to her "Freedom Room," as she now called it, happened for the next few weeks. Soon she had mastered and perfected every dance in the newest opera, Il Muto.

The only problem was that every day she would get more tired from hard nights of practicing. Meg noticed Loralee's drowsiness once as she stumbled over and almost fell down the stairs one day.

"Beth, what's wrong?"

"Hmm. . . ?" Loralee asked, raising her dreary eyes to Meg.

"What's wrong with you?"

Loralee looked taken aback. Meg rolled her eyes and sighed in frustration.

"Not that way, silly!" she said, making Loralee calm down. "It's just that every day you get more tired and tired. I'm asking why?"

"What? Oh, nothing. . . nothing's wrong with me."

Meg didn't look satisfied with the answer and Loralee just tried to look innocent but it didn't work.

"Beth, you know I'm your best friend, so you shouldn't be afraid to tell me anything."

"Thanks Meg, but I promise, nothing's wrong with me."

"I don't believe you," Meg said, eye brows drawn together as she looked away with a "humph!" of frustration.

"Then don't," Loralee replied rather too curtly than she would have liked it. Meg sent Loralee a glare and Loralee sighed, rubbing her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Meg, I'm just. . . I'm just tired. All right? I'm. . . I'm still getting the beat of things down."

"I want you to go to bed early tonight," Meg said suddenly, rounding on Loralee. Loralee stared at her blankly and a little surprised.

"But-"

"No 'buts,' Mademoiselle McLay," Meg said, a small smile appearing on her face. "You are going to bed early whether you like it or not."

"And how, may I ask Mademoiselle Giry, are you to make me?"

"Umm. . ."

Meg was at a clear loss. She obviously could not stay in Loralee's room for all night. She needed rest herself. Also, her mom would punish her for staying at a random chorus members room.

"See? You can't make sure I'll go to bed early," Loralee said. "But, just for you. . ." A smile suddenly grew on Meg's face. ". . . I might!"

The smile got wiped off just as quickly as it came.

"You are one stubborn girl, Beth," Meg sighed before parting with Loralee.

Loralee rushed to her room and after waiting a while for all the corps de ballet and chorus members to settle down, she stripped off her dress until she was only in her under dress and pulled out the pointe shoes. Then, slipping on the still mysterious black cloak, she went out of her room and into the now familiar shadows of the Opera House hallways.


	6. Found

**Thanks for the review Priestess of Anubis!**

**And Sorry this chapter is a bit short. There's nothing else really to say.**

**Enjoy!**

**MaskedDreamer**

Chapter Six: Found

_One two three four, one two three four, one two three four. . ._

The beat of the song Loralee was currently dancing to filled her mind and she couldn't help but hum along. It was too tiring to actually sing while dancing but at least humming let her feel more challenged. And she loved that feeling.

She had been dancing for the past few hours, her night gown now sticking to her sweaty body, her legs cramping up. But she kept going. She kept dancing and dancing. If she fell down, she got back up quickly and kept on moving. It seemed as if that she danced to live - as if when she'd stop, she'd die.

Of course that's not true, though. Loralee was just dancing because she had never felt such energy. Perhaps it was the fact that she now perfected every single dance in the newest Opera, down to the last finger position.

_One two three four, one two three four, one two three-_

_"_AAH!"

Half way through a spin, Loralee caught sight of something, or more like someone, in the mirror. She lost focus and went toppling over and onto the ground, luckily not hurting any part of her body in the process. She got up quickly and turned towards the now clapping person in the door way.

"Very well done, Mademoiselle Donoghue!

There was only two people at the Opera house who knew her true identity, and the black dress and long braided hair told Loralee which one of the people it was.

"M-Madame Giry?" she said, clearly startled and embarrassed at the ballet mistress's sudden entrance. Madame Giry only smiled warmly.

"You are a _very_ talented dancer, Loralee. Why didn't you try out for the vacant place in the corps de ballet instead of the open space in the chorus?"

"I was a forced to take Natalia William's place in trying out. Meg found me running away from. . . from you know who."

"Ah, I see," Madame Giry said, slowly walking towards Loralee, leaning on her black staff. Only now did Loralee see how Madame Giry was rather frail and weak. Old age was slowly catching up to her.

"This won't do," she said more to herself than to Loralee as she fingered the skinny sleeve of Loralee's dress. As she did so her hand accidentally brushed over one of Loralee's scars. Out of reflexes, Loralee drew back, crossing her hands over her chest and slouching as if some one was about to hit her. Madame Giry only sighed in slight annoyance but also in understanding.

"It's okay. I won't hurt you." Loralee still kept her arms crossed. "It's really all right. I've. . . I've had some experiences with scars and marks on the body, so I'm used to them."

Loralee stared at her.

"You mean to say, you also have scars?"

"Oh, heavens no! Not me!" Madame Giry said, shaking her head negatively. "No. It was actually. . ." she thought for the right words. "A boy I met when I was a girl. He was treated harshly for the scars he wasn't able to hide from the public. He would have died from beatings if it hadn't been for me. I saved him and. . . and gave him shelter. He grew up, his scars still being a problem in his life." She looked away from Loralee, face not readable. "They still are."

Loralee looked at her, eyes full of understanding and pity for the man who's soul was in possession of such horrors.

"How did he come to bare such. . . damnable things?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"He was born with them, although he did get some more scars from his brutal life as a boy." She shook her head and Loralee blinked to keep back tears that suddenly wanted to come out.

"I shouldn't have told you that. He's. . . He's quite _touchy_ and, well, frightening when it comes to his scars. Forget everything I told you. Can you promise me that?"

Loralee nodded, knowing she never would. She only wanted to make Madame Giry forget about her mistakes quickly.

"Good!" Madame Giry said, a small smile creeping onto her face. "Now, where in the world did you get those pointe shoes?"

_Busted! _Loralee thought.

Her face immediately went red and she started stuttering gibberish, trying to find an excuse to make her innocent. Madame Giry only raised an eye brow.

"It's all right, Loralee. You may keep them seeing as you've already almost worn a hole in that one." She pointed to Loralee's right foot. "Perhaps some day you and Meg can go out and get some shoes."

Just the thought of stepping out into the public frightened Loralee beyond belief, but Madame Giry didn't seem to notice. Instead she slammed her staff down on the ground and walked away.

"Now Loralee, I'd like to see your skills of a ballerina. Starting from the third scene's ballet then?"

Glad to be away from the uncomfortable talk, Loralee willingly got into her opening position. After Madame Giry tapped out the beat, she went off, twirling, spinning, and jumping, doing the whole performance perfectly.

Only after she landed in her final position did Madame Giry show her favor of the dance by clapping.

"Bravo! Bravo, my dear Mademoiselle Donoghue! If my corps de ballet members danced half as good as you, we'd be better than ever!"

Loralee blushed at the compliment and bowed her head.

"Thank you, Madame," she stated simply yet still able to show her appreciation.

The next hour Madame Giry spent watching Loralee dance all the dances in the Opera. She only fixed a few of Loralee's moves but the rest she claimed were flawless. Loralee couldn't help but throw her arms around Madame Giry and hug her when she called Loralee a true master at ballet.

"I'm quite glad I found you here," Madame Giry claimed after Loralee had detached herself from her body. "Other wise, I would have never found you dancing."

"How did you know I was here?" Loralee asked.

"Oh, I didn't know you were specifically in this very room. I only knew you were some where out doing mischief."

"But how?" Loralee asked, stunned at the ballet Mistress's grand knowledge of the Opera Populaire. Of her life!

"Meg came to me claiming something was going on with you and that must be running out some where during the night. She claimed that every day you get more tired looking and she also knew you were lying when you said nothing was wrong with you. Thus, with all the evidence that you were up to something, my dear Meg sent me abroad like a hound dog to sniff out the Opera House and find you and your mischievous doings." She sighed, smiling slightly. "Oh, what would my life be like without Meg?"


	7. Meg's Encounter

**Thank you again, Priestess of Anubis. You absolutely rock! **

**Oh, and Molly, if you're reading this and are going to review - you better not give anything away!**

**Enjoy!**

**MaskedDreamer**

Chapter Seven: Meg's Encounter

Loralee had just finished another day of work at the Opera House. Her night visit from Madame Giry had gone well. She had encouraged Loralee to keep dancing, and also encouraged her to try out for the corps de ballet. Right after she suggested this Loralee merely laughed.

"You really think I, the run away and wanted Loralee Donoghue, would join the corps de ballet!"

Shaking her head, Loralee sat down, undoing the ribbons on her pointe shoes.

"I'm serious, Loralee. With some more practice, you could even become the next Prima Ballerina."

Loralee slipped off her right shoe, rubbing the blistered and aching toes. She sighed and seemed to gaze at nothing.

"Madame, with all do respect, I outright refuse to join the corps de ballet. Not only would I be in the midst of some of the most ungracious and money hearted whores, but also practicing would reveal some scars I'd rather not share, both physical and emotional. The only good part would be to work with you and Meg, but I already see you two enough to be content."

As she slipped off her left shoe and massaged her newly exposed foot, Madame Giry leaned against the ballet practice bar. After a long pause, the ballet mistress spoke.

"Your loss," she sighed out, looking Loralee straight in the eye. "You do have very good arguments, though, and it amazes me."

Before Madame Giry turned to leave, Loralee could swear she heard Madame Giry mutter something to herself along the lines of, ". . .and so does he. . ."

But now, the next day, Loralee was right on the border of sleep. She couldn't get to sleep last night after the meeting with Madame Giry until an hour before she had to wake up. As a consequence, she almost missed practice but instead just came late. Instead of the harsh punishments that Madame Giry gave out to all the corps de ballet for being tardy, she instead just nodded at Loralee with an understanding look. She even smiled a bit which was completely unheard of.

After that, Loralee new she could trust Madame Giry with anything she had hidden in her soul.

Madame Giry decided they would meet out at a local cafe that night for dinner. Loralee looked amazed that Madame Giry would even suggest such a thing and refused to stick a toe out of the Opera House or any place where Hector could be lurking about. Only after much arguing and disagreeing, Loralee was finally convinced that she would go so long as Madame Giry didn't bug her any more about joining the corps de ballet and would allow her to wear a wig from the props room to hide her unmistakable black silky hair.

She was thinking about which wig to wear while walking away from practice and to her room that Friday afternoon, but was soon jerked out of her thoughts when a large scream broke through the bustle of after a long day of work.

Every one became silent and turned towards the place where the scream had come from. Unluckily, the gaze happened to be straight at Loralee even though she didn't do the scream at all. No one seemed to notice her own genuine confused look.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand grabbed her upper arm and pulled her over into the shadows. Letting out a little yelp, Loralee turned to see it was her friend, Meg.

Meg had a look of pure fright, surprise, and amazement plastered over her usually bright and cheerful face. The rare change that Loralee witnessed meant only something of great terror happened.

"What happened Meg?" Loralee whispered, looking straight into her friends eyes.

"I. . . I saw. . . I saw _him_!"

Loralee didn't get it. Who could she have possibly seen that was so terrifying in the shadows of the Opera House.

"Meg, what are you talking about?"

"I saw him! I really did, Beth! I've heard all the stories, I know all the descriptions, and they all fit the person I saw perfectly! I mean it, I really do!"

"Meg, who in the world could frighten you so much? Who is this 'him'?"

"Don't tell me you've never heard of the Phantom of the Opera," Meg said, aghast. By now a crowd had gathered around them, listening to every word. After Meg said who "him" was, whispers and gasps echoed through the room. Loralee raised an eyebrow.

"You mean the ghost that everyone believes in?"

Meg only nodded, her breathing still irregular and face still in shock.

"Don't be silly, Meg. He's an idea cooked up by some lunatic who wanted to scare little girls like us. Don't let those thoughts poison your mind."

"He's true, Beth! Everyone knows he is. Especially after Don Juan Triumphant!"

Loralee's forehead wrinkled in thought.

"That was the opera that was the night of the fire, right?"

"Yes! He was there! He took the part of Don Juan in a scene with my friend Christine and she revealed him. Horrors, I say! Horrors! Never in my life have I seen anything so disgusting, so twisted, so-"

"Meg!" Loralee said sharply. "You should not judge people by what they look like."

She had always stuck to that word of wisdom. When she was younger, before she met Hector, she made friends with all the rejected people because of their looks in Ireland. After being with them for a long time she had made a friend who had a missing arm and found her to be the nicest, caring person she had ever met. The prettier girls were nice, too, but none seemed able to match the other disfigured girl.

"Anyway," Meg said, resuming the story. Loralee was still worried at Meg who still had the look of pure shock on her face. "He then got mad and whisked Christine away. There are rumors that he was in love with her but she was engaged to the Vicomte de Changy. The Phantom made the chandelier fall and Raoul went after them. My own mom helped guide him. I couldn't help but follow. I don't know exactly what happened but I heard that Christine and Raoul killed the Opera Ghost and they escaped and-"

"_Silence!_"

Every one went silent and turned towards the person who spoke with a loud and deathly hiss. Madame Giry stood in the corridor and a unreadable yet annoyed look were in her flaming eyes.

Meg immediately shut up and her grip on Loralee's arm turned to iron. Loralee bit on her lip to keep from squealing out in pain. Madame Giry swiftly and quickly cut herself through the crowd of people to Loralee and Meg, grabbing and pulling Meg along a dark corridor near by while the rest of the Opera Populaire went their own ways, whispering about Meg's tale and so called encounter with the Phantom of the Opera.

"Meg Giry. Have you forgotten everything I've told you? Do not spread rumors! They are vile things that harm gullible ears and you know I told you not to speak of him-"

Madame Giry suddenly noticed Loralee who Meg was still clutching. She was trying to pry Meg off of her arm but it didn't work. Loralee didn't notice that the ballet mistress had almost spilled a secret she promised to keep. Then Madame Giry noticed Meg's deathly tight grip and Loralee's struggling.

"And get your bloody hand off of the poor girl!" Madame Giry hissed angrily as she whacked Meg on the arm. The whack seemed to bring Meg back to her senses, and she yelped in pain, the look of shock off her face and instead replaced with shame. Meg let go of Loralee and bowed her head to her mother so she could not see the tear that slipped out of her eye and the realization of what she had just done.

"I'm sorry maman," Meg said, barely audible.

"Meg, go to your room now. You won't be able to go out tonight either by yourself or with some friends. Now go!"

Meg knew better than to protest, so she scurried down and out of the hallway. Madame Giry sighed, rubbing her eyes, tiredness slowly taking over her.

"Madame?" Loralee said uncertainly.

"Loralee. I'm sorry Meg had to bother you with that pishposh. Try not to think of it. The Opera Ghost is something all the Opera Populaire likes to talk about."

"I have never thought his existence to be real."

"You haven't?" Madame Giry said, looking slightly relieved. "Oh, thank god for that." She straightened up yet her face still carried some of the sleepiness she had before.

"I'm sorry, Loralee, but the dinner tonight will have to be postponed. There's a few things I need to. . . I need to take care of."

Before Loralee could say any of her questions, comments, or even a simple "Good-bye!", Madame Giry had disappeared down the hallway at a determined pace.

Curiosity slowly crept into Loralee's soul and suddenly she found herself running away to get her black cloak from her room. After putting it on, she slipped into the shadows and went out to search for Madame Giry.


	8. Christine's Dressing Room

**So sorry for not posting in a such a long time, but I've been really busy. I just went to my grandma's and then a little before that I went backpacking with my dad in New Hampshire. Tomorrow I'm heading off to the Cape with my friend for ten days so I won't be able to post again for a while.**

**Chapter Ten is coming up, which is good because it's the chapter in which Erik and Loralee meet (finally). Hope you enjoy this chapter, though, and please read and review! **

**MaskedDreamer**

Chapter Eight: Christine's Dressing Room

Madame Giry bustled off through the hallways. Her mind was bursting with annoyance and anger. She had once cared for Erik but after seeing the horrors he caused during Christine's reign at the Opera House, she had lost all feelings of pity towards him. She could still remember Raoul's spirit shifting words.

"But clearly, Madame Giry, genius has turned to madness."

But now he deserved to be talked to.

She went through the hallways, glad she was wearing her completely black dress so that she could hide in the shadows easily. Her fast feet didn't even seem to touch the ground as she speed through hallways and empty rooms. Finally she found herself entering the large and dusty room that no one had been in for a while.

Christine Daae once had this room as her own dressing room but then left after the dreadful night of Don Juan Triumphant. She and Raoul fled to the French countryside in hope of a peaceful life and have so far gotten what they wished for. Now, it seemed, Erik was connected to the shy and abused girl, Loralee Donoghue, even though he had no idea of it.

It was quite obvious from the Madame Giry's view. Ever since Loralee had that night when she had a run in with Erik, Erik had been out and about much more than normal. Whenever she saw him in the catwalks or Box 5 she always saw him paying the mere chorus girl quite a bit of attention compared to the others.

And now he was going about and making his presence known to the Opera Populaire.

She had to stop this nonsense.

Hesitating a little, Madame Giry slowly walked over to the mirror, inactivating the mechanism she had not used for so long. Soon the mirror slightly slipped open, enough so that she could hook her fingers around it and slide it open even more. She did so until it was wide enough for her to slip into. Then, very quickly, she shut the mirror and scurried off down the passage ways, unaware of the girl who entered the room just after she disappeared behind the mirror.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Loralee had gotten her black cloak, pulled it on, and disappeared into the shadows of the Opera House. Giggling members from the corps de ballet walked by her without noticing the black clad figure with a pale white face. Many others also did the same, even the two managers. Being so accustomed to the Opera House's shadows, doors, and hallways by now, it didn't take long for Loralee to catch up to Madame Giry.

Madame Giry, too, was walking silently in the shadows.

_Why is she being so secret?_ she thought, curious.

Soon Madame Giry stopped in front of a large and old dressing room. With a shock, Loralee realized which one it was.

The door was large and colored a deep pink. Letters were almost peeled and faded off but she could still see the person who last owned that room.

_Christine Daae!_

Madame Giry looked around her once more to see if anyone was with her but her eyes just flew right over Loralee's form in the shadows. None the less, she held her breath, buried her head in the cloak so her black hair would hide her pale white face, and pressed against the wall harder. Then, after taking a deep breath, Madame Giry stepped into the room.

After waiting a few seconds, Loralee went over and peeked inside of Christine's dressing room. Happily, Loralee noticed the floors were dusty and it was easy to see the path that Madame Giry had taken throughout the room.

As she was about to put her head around the whole of the door she heard a faint _"click!" _from the other side of the room.

Heart beating ten times the normal time, Loralee pulled her head back from the crack in the door and waited a few more minutes before entering the room.

Loralee stepped in Madame Giry's footprints to hide all possible clues of her being there. She also held the cloak close to her body so it wouldn't swish up any dust or drag on the floor like it usually did. Stepping lightly, Loralee made her way farther and farther into the long and narrow room. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the dark and she was able to soon see a large mirror much like the one in her room loom ahead of her. The only thing was that this mirror was much larger than Loralee's because of the vast wall.

Loralee was almost nose to nose with the mirror when she stepped on Madame Giry's second to last foot print. The last one she didn't dare stand on because it was only the front of the foot, much like the position of the foot when you're pushing up off from the ground and stepping on something higher with the other foot.

But what would Madame Giry step up onto? There was only a mirror in front of her so unless she was trying to get a better look of herself in the top of the mirror by standing up really strange, there was nothing she could have done.

Then she understood. The mysterious glances and quiet footsteps, the "click", and the pushed off foot.

This mirror must be a hidden door into some secret part of the Opera House.

Looking around from the second to last footstep she searched for a secret mechanism to use to open up the mirror. From what she could see, there was no funny looking knot of wood on the wall or ground, no interestingly laid out gold part of the mirror border, absolutely nothing that was a sign of getting through.

Loralee looked for about an hour more but didn't find anything. She was so engrossed with finding it and trailing her fingers on the frame that she almost didn't notice footsteps in the distance behind the mirror.

_Madame Giry was coming back!_

Now only one thought was flying through Loralee's head. _Get out! Get out before she catches you, you careless hog!_

Turning around, Loralee fled, leaping from one of Madame Giry's footprints to another. When she was near the door, though, her foot failed her and she went toppling side ways. Flinging out her arms, Loralee managed to break her fall by grabbing onto a stray chair. Not caring now if her foot prints or signs of her there were shown or not, Loralee let her cloak go and ran all out and through the door.

Little did she know that Madame Giry could see from behind her mirror, a flick of her black cloak.

At first Madame Giry thought it was yet again The Phantom, but then she realized how foolish that would have been. He wouldn't have been so clumsy and more likely just stepped into the shadows to hide. She also was just talking to him back at his lair and it was impossible for him to pass her at that speed. . . Isn't it?

But no, it wasn't him. She stepped out of the mirror and walked along out and through the room. As she neared the door, though, she saw a dash of clean floor sticking out from her perfectly left footprint and then numerous careless and quick footsteps from that slip and out of the door as if the person were in a hurry. Looking over, she also saw a small hand print on a chair and much unsettled dust still floating about in the air.

Some one had seen her. That black cape was the person running away from her.

Then the black cloak came to register and she quickened her footsteps to Loralee Donoghue's room.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

"Loralee!"

Loralee, who was just taking off her black cloak and lighting a candle, jumped and nearly dropped the lit match. Luckily she managed to contain herself enough to light the candle and then blow the match out before walking over to the now heavily pounded on door.

"Loralee Donoghue, open this door at _once!"_

Loralee quickly opened the door and shoved Madame Giry inside, closing the door quickly.

"Don't shout out that name!" Loralee hissed at the ballet mistress, her face pale as she looked around the room as if there was someone inside who heard.

Madame Giry was surprised at the girls unusual and rather rash actions and it took her awhile to recover from the shock and adjust to the dark room. She could barely find Loralee who was still in her black cloak and easily melted into the shadows of her small room.

"Loralee Donoghue, did you follow me into Christine Daae's dressing room? Was it you?"

Loralee gulped. So she found out. There was no point in lying now. She lowered her head in shame and embarrassment.

"Yes ma'am. I'm sorry. I know it wasn't my place."

"Your right it wasn't your place! You should not go sneaking after people like. . . like a shadow!"

Madame Giry was about to say "Like Erik" but just caught herself.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry isn't good enough in this situation," Madame Giry said. "Promise me you'll never speak of this to anyone and you will not ever follow anyone again."

"I promise-"

"Look me in the eye!" Madame Giry snapped. Loralee gulped but none the less steadily looked up into Madame Giry's eyes.

"I promise I will keep my mouth shut and never sneak after anyone including you, Madame."

"Good. Now get some rest."

Madame Giry turned to leave and Loralee took off her cloak. When Madame Giry got to the door, though, she turned back around to face Loralee.

"Loralee, if possible, forget these past few days. It was a dream, nothing more. Don't listen to the corps de ballet and their drunken twitter and don't pay attention to any. . . signs."

Then she was gone.

Sighing, Loralee hung the cloak up and pulled out her night gown. After getting dressed and getting her pointe shoes, Loralee went off to dance through dinner and well into the night, fighting away all the memories with every graceful step she took.

She had almost successfully gotten the strange memories out of her head for that night but when she returned to her room, washed her face, and was about to go to bed with wonderful dreams, her eyes got hold of a sight which made her stomach flip, her heart stop, and the memories flood back.

There on her vanity sat a perfect red rose with a black ribbon tied to the stem, the edges of the fine satin flowing off the table. Next to the rose was a letter.

Going over, now fully awake, Loralee read the note.

_Listen to Madame Giry. It's for your own good to forget the past. Put it behind you and move forward. But please, keep dancing; it thrills me to watch you._

_O.G._


	9. The New Job

**Before I leave I'm putting up this chapter and maybe even chapter ten! Yesterday I found out I was leaving in the afternoon so I decided that I could do more than one just as a sort of apology. **

**Countess Alana Omg! Thank you sooooo much for reviewing! I'm putting up a chapter ten today partially for your sake because I'm afraid this chapter has something like a cliffy also. :)**

**Here's chapter nine!**

**MaskedDreamer**

Chapter Nine: The New Job

Sixth months had gone by.

All strange memories were pushed into the farthest corner of Loralee's mind, she still practiced ballet late into the night, and she had made great friends with Madame Giry.

The Opera Populaire had put on four operas in those six months and all had been wonderful. The newest one, Faust, had been decided to perform the first day of spring, and it was now two days after that date.

Loralee went over and got her script and then went back to the stage to do a run through of it with the cast, Monsieur Reyer, and Monsieur André and Firmin.

Upon entering and looking around, Loralee was surprised that she couldn't find Madame Giry any where. Slightly disappointed and curious, she made her way over to the young blonde friend of hers.

"Meg, where's your mother?"

"She's sick. This morning she woke up with a burning fever."

Loralee panicked. Meg noticed her sudden change and put a comforting hand on Loralee's arm.

"It's okay, Beth, my mother's going to be fine even though her age is finally catching up with her. The doctor came and said she'll be better in a couple of days."

"Will I be able to see her?" Loralee asked.

"She's already asked to see you as soon as she gets better. It should be soon. I'll get you when she's ready."

"Thank you."

They read through the script for the next two days and started the basics of the Opera. The ballet was in poor shape because of Madame Giry's absence but the chorus was getting along fine. Three days later, after a day of costume measurements and practice, Loralee was approached by Meg.

"My mother wishes to see you now."

Loralee pushed back the idea she had of going to start practice ballet earlier than usual and instead followed Meg through the hallways happily.

Madame Giry's room was rather small yet full of artistically elegant pieces of furniture and art. The very air was heavily laden with mystical fumes and made the room feel smaller and cozier than it was.

"Meg? Is Beth with you?"

Madame Giry's voice called out from around the corner, surprisingly strong yet still studded with weariness.

"Yes, maman!"

Madame Giry was lounging on her bed, sipping from some tea. He hair was in a lose braid and she was in a dull gray night gown. It was so strange to see the usually uptight and strict Madame Giry tired and so loose. Loralee even had to pinch herself secretly to see if she wasn't dreaming. Indeed, she was not, and luckily Madame Giry nor Meg Giry had seen her foolish act of disbelief.

"Hello, Madame. I hope you are feeling better."

"Oh, much better, thank you." Madame Giry put down her tea. "Meg, my love, please leave us in peace."

Meg nodded and quietly left the room, obviously off to enjoy the evening with some of her other Opera Populaire friends. When they could hear Meg's footsteps safely disappear, they both hugged each other warmly.

"My dear Loralee, I'm sorry to have frightened you so."

Loralee blushed.

"How did you find out?"

"Well, my dear Meg can't keep her mouth shut, can she? The first second she could, she came running to me saying how you were nearly in tears of fright and concern."

"Remind me why I place my trust with Meg?" Loralee asked sarcastically.

"Now, Loralee, to the serious business."

"Yes, please. I've been also dying to know what you wanted to see me for. Meg only said it was important and wouldn't tell me more."

"Well, that's good, because I didn't say anything more to her. I only said I needed to speak to you on secret and future topics."

Loralee's brow furrowed as she sat down at the end of Madame Giry's bed. Madame Giry fingered with the bed sheets while she began the reason of Loralee's comings.

"I've worked at the Opera House for almost all my life, starting off as a ballet student and becoming the ballet mistress. I've never really thought of the future of my job, but my sickness the past few days has forced this detail into my mind. The past few days I've seemed to pass the line of age, and I'm afraid I shall be retiring from my job as soon as I can. In my place as ballet mistress I wish to have you, Loralee."

Loralee was speechless. She opened her mouth to speak but it only seemed to get exceedingly heavy when the lips separated and instead just went into a gape of amazement.

Madame Giry wanted her as the ballet mistress?

"But. . . But Madame, I don't even belong in the corps de ballet!"

Madame waved her hand as if to wave off what Loralee just said.

"What has that got to do with anything? It's the talent that counts and from what I've seen, you want nothing but perfection and are a clear example of perfection, also."

"So it may seem. . ." Loralee muttered under her breath. Madame Giry heard and sighed impatiently.

"I'm asking you to take my place as ballet mistress, Loralee. What's your answer?"

Loralee sat and thought for a moment. She was currently satisfied with her position as a chorus girl and practicing ballet at night. But now she could leave behind her chorus girl job and become the well known ballet mistress. This meant working harder, being more exposed to the public, and having a large piece of the Opera's performance rest on her shoulders. Loralee thought she'd die of stress before she'd even do one ballet move in front of the corps de ballet, but Madame Giry seemed to think otherwise.

Now looking at the elder woman, Loralee was surprised to see how much gray hairs had woven themselves into Madame Giry's fine golden ones. Her eyes seemed more sunken in, and in them shone out a bright ray of tiredness. It was true. Her age really was catching up to her. Also, on Madame Giry's face, was a pure look of need and hope that Loralee might take her place. Hope also that she might finally live a peaceful life she most very much deserved. There was little more than Loralee could have done than say:

"Yes, I will take the job of ballet mistress."

Madame Giry sighed out and closed her eyes, a smile finally breaking out on her aged face.

"Thank you so much, Loralee. You have no idea how much this means to me."

Then she flicked back open her eyes, a serious and secret expression suddenly plastered over her face.

"I. . . I also forgot to mention one duty the ballet mistress has. Promise me that you will have this job and not do so much as give a hint of the job I'm about to tell you of?"

"Of course I won't tell anybody. What is it?"

"The other job, Loralee, is being the box keeper of Box 5."

Loralee became surprised and confused. Surely such a job has no reason to be kept as a secret.

"Why must job be secret?" Loralee said, voicing her thoughts in form of a question outloud.

"Loralee, have you heard the tales of the Opera Ghost, or sometimes known as the Phantom of the Opera."

"Well, of course I have. It's some stupid tale someone made up about a so called ghost that wears a white half mask who was obsessed with Christine Daae and almost stole her away from her fiancé, the Vicomte de Changy. What has that got to do with this, though?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, Loralee, I have to say that the story was no tale and is very much true. The Opera Ghost prowled, and still prowls, the Opera House and lives beneath in the cellars. The love affair did happen with him and Christine Daae, and he has been broken ever since he let her go. He's very much alive, just emotionally dead from the incident a year and a half ago. I've been his box keeper, messenger, and friend for my whole life, and now I pass down this job to you as well. His stubbornness has also gotten to me in my old age."

Loralee was very pale by then. She always believed in Madame Giry, and knew that the story she had just heard from the ballet mistress was completely true.

The memories all came back suddenly and Loralee was laden down with questions.

"That night a long time ago, you know? The one when I was looking throughout the Opera Populaire? Was that man who I saw in the chapel and the man who caught me from hitting the ground. . . _him_?"

She was slightly afraid to hear the answer and nearly shrieked out with surprise and amazement when Madame Giry nodded.

"It was the first sign I'd seen of him since the night of Don Juan Triumphant. I knew it was him when I saw the black cloak he gave you. It's his. And those notes and roses you got from O.G. are also his doing."

_Of course!_ Loralee thought. _O.G. is Opera Ghost!_

"But why did he give the signs to me out of all people?"

"I'm not sure," Madame Giry lied. She didn't want to stress Loralee out too much. "Perhaps he just felt sorry for scaring you like that."

"How could he feel sorry, though? I've heard he's a murderer and a monster of spirit. I really could care less about what's underneath the mask, but-"

"You don't!" Madame Giry asked, surprised and amazed. "Why, bless the heavens, I think you're the perfect candidate for the job then. He's very. . . sensitive about his mask and history. The Opera Ghost is a rather picky man."

Loralee breathed in deeply and exhaled through her mouth, eyes closing for a few seconds.

"So, I'm to teach corps de ballet and serve the so called Opera Ghost."

"Correct," Madame Giry said. "I've already told him that he's to be in Box 5 at nine tonight to meet you, so I expect you to be there to introduce yourselves."

Loralee could only nod. Nine was only in two hours.

"I think I may get some rest right now, Loralee. Thank you once again and good luck tonight. You'll need it."

Loralee bid good-bye to Madame Giry and left the room. Only when she had shut her own room door behind her did she let out a long string of rather disgusting words.


	10. Meet the Boss

**Chapter Ten as I promised - Enjoy!**

**And Countess Alana - I'm planning of checking out your story when I get back from the Cape on the 20th. It's good you don't have to see the movie to understand it because I haven't! Thanks so much again for writing to me! **

Chapter Ten: Meeting the Boss

"Here goes nothing," Loralee whispered to herself when it was five to nine. She had dressed in a rather formal dress. It was the same red one with black lace she had worn her first day. After swishing on the Opera Ghost's cape, she exited her room, slipping into the shadows (now a habit done without much thinking) and quietly tread up to the dreaded box.

Box 5 was situated right before the stage and had the best view out of all the seats. If it were sold out to the public it would have cost a fortune but it never was because the Opera Ghost always stayed in there to watch the Operas even though no one ever saw him. As soon as she walked up right in front of the door that entered into the lush area of Box 5, she lost all calmness about her that she had fought to keep.

Timidly she raised her hand and knocked.

After waiting about a minute for someone to answer she knocked again.

This time as her fist made contact with the wood of the door, it opened up and swung inwards. She gasped and stepped back, afraid of the dark insides of the room.

_Curse you, Loralee! It's not bad. He knows who you are and Madame Giry has explained to him everything, so you're fine. Don't be such a sissy and get in!_

Straightening up and putting a calm façade on her face, Loralee entered.

As soon as she got to the middle of the box she heard the door shut behind her. The click of the lock now seemed like her death bell.

Loralee swung around to see him but instead was greeted with pitch black shadows.

"It's proper and respectful to shut the door behind you when you enter a room."

The voice spoken to her carried a musical and heavenly tune to it unlike any other voice she had heard. Immediately she knew that this man was a musical genius. The surprising fact, though, was that he was a ventriloquist. When he spoke, his voice echoed all over the room and came crashing down onto Loralee. She started to shiver and looked around, her calm façade now entirely gone.

"What are you doing here?" he said, his voice now silky and deadly as if woven by a poisonous spider.

Loralee couldn't answer. Her mouth had gone considerably dry.

"Answer me! What are you doing here?"

"Show yourself, Phantom," she managed to choke out.

In answer to her wish, she suddenly saw a man with a white mask seem ooze out of the shadows just long enough before a steel hand of ice was around her throat and pinning her up against the wall of the box. She immediately groped at the hand, trying to pry it off, but it didn't do so much as twitch.

"You're wish is granted," a voice hissed in her ear, all musical qualities almost gone. "Now, what are you doing here, Mademoiselle Donoghue?"

"I can't breath!" Loralee wheezed out. Her only response was his grip tightening, making her choke.

"Let me go!" she whispered.

"Not until you answer my question, child."

"Didn't Madame Giry tell you about my comings?"

Suddenly the hand was off of her throat and Loralee slumped to the ground, gulping in the blessed air, and massaging her throat. Blinking back the black dots that where once covering her vision, Loralee looked up into the eyes of the Opera Ghost.

He looked just like he did when she saw him last. Dark brown hair slicked back to perfection, flaming green eyes cutting through her own soul, all clothes black and of a wealthy and noble manner, and the white mask covering half of his angelic face. Supposedly underneath it was the the devil himself.

"Madame Giry? What is your visit to do with Madame Giry?" he said, voice softening.

"So she didn't tell you," Loralee sighed, standing up and straightening out her dress. The Phantom just stared at her suddenly calm and understanding manner, quite obviously shocked. His eyes were still sparking and his breathing irregular from anger at a random chorus member intruding into his private box, but he had calmed down considerably when she said Madame Giry's name.

"Tell me what?" he snapped sharply.

"She told you to come here at nine, but what she forgot to mention was that the reason of coming here was to meet me."

"And why would I ever want to meet someone known as Loralee Donoghue?"

He smirked when he saw her clearly shaken by his knowledge of her real name.

"Because I'm going to be replacing Madame Giry's jobs. All of them. Including being your box keeper and messenger."

The Phantom looked clearly shocked but quickly covered up his surprise with a stone cold look.

"Well, I can see why she chose you as the dance teacher. You dance marvelously."

"How in the world. . . ?" Loralee stuttered.

"Why, Mademoiselle, you forget that I am well known with this Opera House than any other person and know every trick to it. I can easily watch you dancing every night if I want a free and spectacular show and have many times."

Loralee paled considerably, jaw hanging slack with embarrassment and shock.

"But why in the world would she make you my messenger?" he asked as if he didn't see Loralee's sudden change of spirit and wits.

"I'm not sure. She wouldn't tell me why. Wait. . . She did say something about how I didn't care what was under the mask."

"Obviously a lie," the Phantom said, laughter in his voice. "Everyone runs away from me because of this!" he said, gesturing disgustedly to his mask. "And a mere chorus girl like yourself wouldn't stand a chance of staying your ground when I'm revealed."

He had lowered his voice so low that Loralee had to strain her ears to hear the musical whisper. It sent shivers of fear through her body but she didn't show them and instead shrugged as if she was talking with an old friend.

"Well, as the saying goes, 'It doesn't matter what's on the outside: it's the inside that counts.' Now, I'm not sure what your inside is like but I'm up to finding out seeing that now I'm going to be your messenger."

"So be it," the Phantom growled.

"One question, though," Loralee asked, looking the Phantom straight in the eyes.

"What?" he said, already feeling a rare friendship blossom between him and the girl.

"How am I to serve a Ghost?"

The Phantom did the last thing she expected him to do.

He threw his head back and let out a deep throaty laugh, sarcasm and music dripping off of it like water off melting ice.

"My dear, I am no Ghost. I am no Phantom, either. I am a living breathing man who just lives in seclusion and grief underneath the Opera House."

"Then what should I call you?" she asked.

The Phantom looked surprised and slightly taken aback. He was never really called anything besides "The Phantom of the Opera" or "Opera Ghost." Then his childhood name granted to him from his worthless mother popped into his head.

"You can call me. . . Erik."

"Well Erik," Loralee said, going down into a graceful curtsy. "Loralee Donoghue, at your service."

She beamed at him, figuring out she might at least try and bring out his friendly side while she has this job because she wouldn't want to be serving a grumpy old rooster every day. Luckily, she thought she saw a trace of a smile swiftly grace his face for a second as her beaming face met his.


	11. The First Demand

**I'm back and thank you everybody for the reviews! I was going to put this chapter up yesterday night, but my friend was over for the whole night so I wasn't able to. Hope I haven't lost any readers from the long wait. **

**Countess Alana - Yeah! Erik smiled:) Well, here's the next chapter and I'll check out your story later today.**

**Erik'sLittleLotte - First of all, cool name! Second of all, I can't wait to see what comes next too! . . . Wait a second, I wrote it! Ah, well - hope this satisfies your curiosity for now and thanks for R&Ring!**

**AngelicFlutist - Ah! I have supreme Author skills? gives huggles to AngelicFlutist That just made my day. . . Thanks so much for the not only one - but two reviews! Here's chapter Eleven for you and I do hope you stick throughout the whole story.**

**Thank you all for R&Ring! Enjoy!**

**-MaskedDreamer **

Chapter Eleven: The First Demand

With the new stress on Loralee's shoulders, she found she couldn't eat, sleep, or think properly. She brainstormed every move they'd have to practice in the new ballet she was going to teach the corps de ballet, and wrote them all down so she wouldn't forget.

The task of being introduced as the new ballet mistress three days ago went by rather smoothly to Loralee's surprise.

"Your new ballet teacher is going to be Mademoiselle McLay, who I've chosen specifically to teach you all while I'm retired."

"But she's just a chorus girl, maman!" Meg shouted, obviously as stunned as the others. Loralee smiled at her friends bluntness.

"Ah, that she is. But she also is an amazing ballerina."

Whispers went throughout. Then the ballerina Jammes stepped forward, arms crossed.

"We want proof!" she said in her shrill voice.

"From the beginning of act ones ballet then, Beth," Madame Giry said, limping off the stage.

Loralee slowly got into the first position and as soon as she did, Monsieur Reyer started up the song. She waited until the beginning note and then went off. She twirled, whirled, and jumped away all her fears of the eyes watching her, and soon felt herself flying on top of a white fluffy cloud.

When the last note played and she got into her final position she noticed everybody was silent and staring with awe at her. Madame Giry was the only one to appear happy and clapped her hands, the rest of the Opera Populaire joining in. Even Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur André came up to shake her hand and congratulate her on the new job.

Now, two days later, she was going back to her room after a long day of introducing the ballet to the girls. They got down the basic moves but now just needed to practice it to perfection. The Opera was in a week and if all went well, the ballet would be as good as it could get, or so Madame Giry said.

Loralee was also aware that she had not seen Erik since the night they met. He said he'd come to her or write her a note when he wanted something but so far had done neither. She was rather disappointed that he had not but also in a way, very relieved. Less work was all Loralee wanted right now. How Madame Giry ever survived these jobs together for the last 25 years was beyond her understanding and Loralee feared she'd never find out.

Coming up to her door, Loralee took out her key from her pocket and unlocked it. She slipped inside silently and swiftly, cloak swishing around her and melting her into the shadows. After locking the door again, Loralee slipped it back into her pocket and put her hand on the wall to guide her way to the table which held the candle.

Not two feet in she felt something against the wall she didn't put there. Curious, she felt it. It was hard and covered in lush fabrics that normally the noble or wealthy would wear. When it puffed out slightly and contracted a few seconds later she nearly jumped out of her stockings.

It was a living breathing man!

She was about to scream but then a familiar steel hand shot out and grasped her mouth, forbidding any such sound of alarm to penetrate from her mouth. Loralee calmed down when she saw who it was, and he let her mouth go. Still shaken, she collapsed on her bed - or atleast where she thought was her bed, but she must have been wrong because instead she went plummeting down onto the floor, landing on her bottom. She let out a yelp of surprise and a groan of pain just as a candle suddenly lit itself.

Erik stood nearby, goldenly illuminated by the single candle. His mask still seemed to glow white and he looked very handsome. Loralee almost gaped at him but then came to her senses and noted it must be the light. All candles make Loralee think more romantically when lit.

"You know," Loralee said, propping herself up on her elbows. "You could of actually made your presence known in a more fashionable manner."

He just smirked at her, coming over and gripping her hands, pulling her up off of the ground. When she got up, she smoothed out her skirts and cursed when she found her hair falling out of the tight bun.

"Ladies aren't supposed to use such language, Mademoiselle Donoghue," he said, slightly amused.

In reply Loralee just glared at him, trying to fix her hair.

"And put your hair down."

"Why?" she asked, stunned at his suggestion. "It's positively indecent to do so."

She could have sworn Erik rolled his eyes but figured out it was just a trick of the light.

"Because women always have to wear. . . _cages_. . . around themselves and it annoys me to see them in such pain. A corset is another example, but hair also must be extremely annoying and painful."

"It seems like you are familiar with these things," she said, hint of amusement in her voice. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

"Mademoiselle Donoghue, after many years in solitude I have learned more than any other mortal on this earth from reading. No mortal would ever let me. . . _investigate_ on such subjects physically."

Loralee now raised an eyebrow but then shook her head. Sighing, she pulled out the pins from her hair and let the glossy black waves fall down her back.

"Fine then, Erik. I'll wear my hair down."

"Now, Mademoiselle Donoghue, I-"

"Please, just Loralee."

He looked rather surprised, but continued on anyway.

"Well then Loralee, I would first like to congratulate you on your progress of becoming the new ballet mistress. You've really scraped those ballet rats into shape in such a short amount of time. And you're lucky, I rarely give out compliments."

Loralee blushed and bowed her head, taking off her - or more like his - cloak and hanging it up.

"Also, before I came in, I-"

"Speaking about coming in," Loralee said suddenly, confusion clouding her pale face. "How in the world did you get into my room? I locked the door and had the key to it in my pocket the whole time."

Erik smirked.

"I'm very disappointed in you, Loralee. Don't you remember that I have many personal ways of travel throughout this Opera House which I helped build? You honestly couldn't have forgotten that easily."

Loralee's brows were knit together in confusion. She struggled to find out a secret passageway in her room that he could have entered and her eyes traveled past his and onto the mirror. Understanding slowly dawned upon her face.

"You used the mirror. You must have! I remember the tales now. You always used the mirror in Christine Daae's room to get to her so you must have also used mine."

Erik stiffened at Christine's name and his face become contorted with agony and troubling memories. Loralee noticed and shut up.

"I'm terribly sorry, Erik. I didn't mean to-"

"Yes, yes. It's fine. . . fine I guess. It's all the past. . . I'm still trying to erase those memories but. . ." His head seemed to slunk down, tears clouded his eyes, and for a moment Erik looked completely weak. Loralee suddenly felt a great sweep of pity for him and distaste for the twisted soul who did this to him.

"But what am I talking about?" he said suddenly, straightening up, all tears from his eyes gone and his cold and secretive demeanor back. "I should not speak such things out loud, and you should never _ever_ ask such questions."

She nodded, suddenly afraid of his strict and fierce attitude. Madame Giry was right. Erik is very protective of himself and rather. . . selfish.

"What is it you want me to do?" she asked, knowing he wouldn't have come just to congratulate her on her first few days as ballet mistress.

"I've been running low on paper, ink, and quills. You will go out right now to get a good supply of all, and leave them next to the mirror so I can pick them up some time later."

Erik tossed Loralee a pouch which was heavy with coins. She gaped at the amount inside, figuring out how much paper, ink, and quills it would all buy.

"There should be some left overs which you may keep as a token of my thanks."

Then with a swish of his black cloak and a slight _click!_ of the mirror closing, Erik was gone.


	12. His First Gift

**Okay, Chapter Twelve. Nothing special to say except a big thank you to AngelicFlutist! I was afraid that Loralee's character wouldn't be put together well enough, so you just made my day by saying she was well done!**

**Enjoy this chapter!**

**-MaskedDreamer**

Chapter Twelve: His First Gift

"Excuse me, Monsieur, but how much paper, quills, and ink would you be able to buy with this amount of money?"

The man behind the counter at the music store gapped at the amount of coins Loralee placed in front of him. He fingered through it, suddenly a greedy glint in his eyes.

"This, my dear, can pay for quite some paper. Enough to last a year if you use it sparsely, but for a working man, most likely shorter. About six months."

"Quills and ink?" she questioned. She didn't really care how much but she always had a lust for knowledge even when she promised herself to stay back from it. Enough of those promises had been broken by her on going lust.

"Hmm. . . About the same amount I presume. Would you like me to give them to you?"

"Yes please, and wrapped. Easy to carry."

He nodded enthusiastically, taking the money and putting it safely into his pocket which was instantly weighed down with many a coin. He disappeared into a room behind the counter, and Loralee was left alone in the store.

Rain pounded hard outside which gave her the perfect excuse of wearing her heavy cloak and hood up. It wasn't Erik's cloak, though, but a different one she found in the costume room. Never in her life would she wear Erik's cloak into the rain because the wet would surely ruin the fine materials.

_And smell_, she thought suddenly. And as much as she would have liked to kill her thoughts right then and there, she had to agree. Never before had she smelt something so mysterious and luxurious.

_I wonder if the rest of the Erik smells like the cloak_, Loralee suddenly thought, and she groaned, smacking her forehead in an attempt to get the disgusting and disturbing thoughts out of her head.

As she smacked her head repeatedly, she felt something on her head but underneath the cloak shift, and immediately her hand went up to steady the gold wig she was wearing.

To hid her black head in an attempt to hide her identity from anything to do with Hector out in the public, Loralee snuck through the costume department and soon found a reasonable wig with blonde curls and a blue bow tying part of it back. She left one golden curl hanging out from underneath the cloak's hood just so people wouldn't expect her at all to be hiding a mass of black silky hair.

Just as she was daring herself to take off the soaking hood for a few seconds to ease her head of the heavy burden, the man came back out of the room with three large boxes in his hands.

"Here you go."

"Thank you," she said, looking at the boxes he just placed on the table top. As she moved her hand to get them, she felt the money pouch jiggle and a few coins clink together. Then an idea suddenly came with her left over money.

"Excuse, Monsieur, but could you hold the boxes for me while I do some more shopping?" she asked. He nodded his head, at this point agreeing with anything she said because the amount of money she gave him.

"Of course, mademoiselle. I shall hold them for you for however long you'd like."

After a quick thank you to the man, Loralee hurried outside. Looking around through the blur of the rain, she spotted a store Madame Giry once spoke about and how Loralee should pay a visit to it. She hurried over to it and stumbled inside, shaking from the rain which was now penetrating her cloak and bleeding into her dress like cold fingers of ice. A woman soon came to her side.

"Ah, mademoiselle. So brave to be shopping at this time of day. What would you like?"

Looking at the woman, Loralee was surprised to find some one about her age. She had rather short brown curly hair with dark gray eyes. Her face was warm and rather pudgy, showing her slight wealth.

"Uh, yes. Do you by any chance have some pointe shoes?"

The lady laughed.

"Why of course I do! My store has the best ballet equipment in all of Paris. Come on in, I'll show you all the ones of your size. The whole of the Opera Populaire doesn't come here for nothing."

Loralee was suddenly ushered onto a plush chair and the lady was bustling around, looking over boxes and pulling some out of the stacks against the wall.

"What's your name?" the lady asked.

"Beth McLay," she said hesitantly.

"Ah! So you're the new ballet mistress they're all talking about. Oh, don't worry, they've been saying nothing bad about you - no sir-y. They've all been saying good comments. They sayin' you get them ballet rats right to business and shape them better than ever. Oh! I'm forgetting my manners. I'm Rosemary Richmond."

Loralee looked stunned at how she was already well known in Paris even though she'd only been working for a few days and had never been shown to the public. This news made her forget the happily chatting Rosemary until and hand was waved in front of her face.

"Hello?"

Loralee snapped out of her shock and thoughts.

"Oh, sorry, what did you say?"

"I said that you should try on these. They're the basic pair for anybody."

"Oh, thanks."

Loralee tried them on and a few others while chatting gaily to Rosemary. They made quick friends.

"So how long have you been working here?" Loralee asked Rosemary as she wrapped up the plain pink ones she was going to buy. Rosemary was putting away the boxes and paused momentarily when Loralee asked her that question, surprised.

"Well, I don't know. Ever since I was born, I guess. My dad ran a bakery here until he died. I wasn't even six, then. My mom, needin' to get my brother and me money, went ahead and made this into the ballet shop it now is. She knew about the Opera Populaire and how much business she'd get from being so close to it. Her theory is still working today. I'm gettin' more costumers than I can count and it's paying off real nice."

Loralee smiled and gave Rosemary the shoes to put in brown paper. As Rosemary was wrapping it, she looked up at Loralee, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"You wouldn't know George Thompson by any chance, would you?" she asked.

Loralee racked her memory.

"No. . . can't say I do. . . Sorry, no."

"Nah, it's okay. I was just wondering."

"Why?" Loralee asked.

"Well, I'd just thought you'd know him, being the ballet mistress and all. He's a mighty fine dancer and works at the Opera Populaire. He came here the other day to get some shoes, and I must confess, I couldn't help but notice him."

Rosemary giggled and Loralee rolled her eyes.

"I haven't been introduced to teaching the men yet to that's probably why. Tell you what, though," Loralee said, leaning over the counter to get her newly wrapped shoes. "Come on over to visit me sometime and you might get a chance to see him."

Rosemary's eyes widened.

"Are you sure? I mean, they won't mind me disturbing their practice?"

"Of course they won't! I mean, I might, but that's why you come after a practice. Anyway, it wouldn't be bad to see you again."

"I'd love to see you again, too!" Rosemary said, delighted.

"You can come over tomorrow at five in the afternoon. I'm starting the boys parts tomorrow."

Rosemary jumped up and down, running around the counter and hugging Loralee tightly.

"Here," Loralee said, laughing as she handed Rosemary the money to buy the shoes.

"Oh, keep it," Rosemary said stubbornly. "You've already given me enough." When Loralee made to argue, Rosemary just turned her around and ushered Loralee to the door, pushing the money back towards Loralee. "I insist!" she said and then pushed her out into the rain after another hug, kiss on the cheek, and yell of thanks.

Loralee was left in the rain for a while, stunned at her new friends enthusiasm before she laughed out loud and hurried back to the music store.

On her way back, though, a store caught her eye and something inside of it she knew a special someone would like. Hurrying inside and checking to see if she had enough money, Loralee bought the gift before going back to the music store and picking up the paper, quills, and ink. Then, after saying goodbye to the man at the store, she hurried back to the Opera House and into her room, locking the door behind her and shrugging off the cloak and wig.

Looking at the clock, Loralee saw there were still five hours until midnight. Sighing she took out her ballet slippers and started to break them in.

It was only at 11:57 when she heard a slight groan from the metal of the mirror sliding away from the frame. She looked up from the dark corner she was drowsing off in and saw Erik slip inside of her room. He went over quietly to her boxes and made to pick them up when Loralee figured out he didn't know she was there.

"Not even going to say hello to the person who owns this room, are we now Erik?" she chuckled.

Erik straightened up and swirled on her, obviously surprised. Soon he regained his normal self.

"You forget, Mademoiselle Donoghue, that I _own_ this whole theater, including your room."

"We both still need to work on our greetings and entrances, though. They've been rather distasteful and not proper the last couple of times."

Erik just growled and bent down, picking up the boxes with unnatural strength. She shivered, realizing those same strong hands had almost crushed her wind pipe once, and she was suddenly grateful to be on Erik's good side. . . or at least she hoped she was.

Just as he was about to leave, Loralee got up, remembering the gift she bought him.

"Oh! Wait!" she said, fishing out the gift from her bag. He turned around and looked at her curiously as she brought out a wrapped parcel. He sighed when he saw it.

"I have no patience for listening to your pointless talk about your newest toy. Now if you excuse-"

"It's for you," Loralee said, holding it out to him as he started to turn towards the mirror hurriedly.

Erik halted mid turn when he heard those three words. They sounded frightenly foreign even though he heard them said around the Opera House many times. The thing was, he wasn't sure if anybody had ever said those words to him freely or on their own will.

But now, here stood a girl, a frightened and beaten girl with a horrible past, offering him a gift freely. There was only one explanation.

"Ha!" he said. "Spare your energy for worthless jokes like this on other people. I have no patience for them, also."

"I'm serious!" she said, stomping her foot on the ground and glaring straight back into his ice cold one. "It's for you, no one else, and it isn't some crazy and horrible joke. It's a real honest to God gift! So take it, damn it! Or I'll put it into your coat pocket by force. I didn't buy it for nothing!"

Loralee was amazed at her heated argument and explanation to Erik, but didn't show it. Instead she kept a stubborn and honest face on, wanting him to trust her. She figured that he probably never got a true gift his entire life, but she didn't think he'd refuse one.

Also, instead of Erik angry as she expected he would be, he looked slightly humored and shocked at her outburst, but he also now looked like a little boy getting a gift from Santa.

"Are. . . Are you sure?" he said, uncertainly, shifting the weight of the boxes in his arms.

Loralee looked him dead on and said, "Positive," his eyes now softening. She held out the parcel to him and he took it hesitantly.

Once he had it, he opened it carefully as if it would explode any second.

"Water colors?" he said, slightly surprised.

"I hope you don't mind. It's a bit lame, but I thought you deserved something."

"How did you know I was an artist?" he asked, eyeing her carefully. Loralee shrugged, putting away the bag the water colors came in for later uses.

"Madame Giry told me once when we were together."

Erik just stared at them for a while, fingering the tin box delicately as if it were the most fragile thing in the world.

"Thank you. . ." he whispered then.

Then, before she could say anything, he produced a rose out of what seemed no where, handed it to her, and slipped back through the mirror.

Loralee smiled at his token of gratitude in her hand. Taking off her clothes behind the dressing screen, she put on her night gown. Getting onto her rickety bed, she slipped underneath the covers, forgetting all about the cold that penetrated them. She fell asleep like that, rose in her hand, and could swear she heard joyous music from an organ float up through the mirror.


	13. Mirror Problems

**Thanks so much for the three reviews and I'm really sorry I didn't put one up yesterday. Here's Chapter Thirteen, though, and it does have a big cliffy so I just _might _put one up tonight!**

**Enjoy after these few replies to the reviews:**

**Erik'sLittleLotte: I thought it would fit if Erik was rather uncertain about getting the gift. I mean, it's a full grown man who has been treated horribly all his life now getting a gift! He must have some type of sense of caution. I'm glad my story's effected you so! **

**The Whisper: Ooh! Thanks so much for reviewing! I love new people. Ha! I like your way of describing Erik's stubbornness as "moody crap." It does fit perfectly, doesn't it? Hope it wasn't too long posting this one up. :D**

**Ethalas Tuath'an: Another new person reviewing! This is my lucky day by far! I agree with you; most main characters are usually members of the chorus or corps de ballet, so I thought it would be interesting for Loralee to be the ballet mistress. It was also a great way of connecting Erik and Loralee together because she doesn't have an amazing voice like most main characters or Christine. Thanks so much for reviewing:)**

Chapter Thirteen: Mirror Problems

"Practice over, Monsieur's! Good job today."

Loralee bid all the men goodbye. It was awkward teaching men around her age how to do ballet. They were rather clumsy at first, but within her strict yet comfortable dance practice, they mellowed out into graceful men intertwining with the girls as they practiced the ballets from throughout the Opera Populaire's up coming opera.

"Beth!"

Turning around Loralee saw a flash of brown curls before the wild woman almost toppled her over with a hug.

"Hello Rosemary!" Loralee said, glad to see her friend too, but not quite showing it the way Rosemary did.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she said, loosening her hug on Loralee and drawing back so she could see her friend's face, now just holding onto her hands.

"Late? Why, you're just on time. Would you like me to introduce you to George Thompson?"

"Oh, yes please!" Rosemary said, giggling. Loralee rolled her eyes and guided Rosemary through the crowds.

"George Thompson! May I have a word with you?"

Loralee shouted to him when she saw him chatting with some of his friends from the chorus. While he said his apologies to the group for having to leave them for a bit, Loralee whispered, "I'm going to try and make this the least suspicious I can," to a now excited looking Rosemary.

"Yes, mademoiselle?" George asked when he came up to her, nodding his head slightly to Rosemary who blushed crimson.

"George, I've been noticing your ballet shoes are wearing thin." It was true. Both of them seemed like they were bearing signs of soon to be holes.

"Yes, Mademoiselle McLay. I was intending to go out to the store today to buy some more."

An obvious lie, Loralee noticed. She could tell from his eyes that he was actually planning on hanging out with his friends and most likely causing trouble with the Opera Populaire. She only raised an eyebrow for a short second but then waved aside his explanation as if she didn't care.

"Not to worry, George. My friend, Rosemary Richmond, has volunteered to size you up and give you new ballet shoes for free."

George turned to Rosemary, eyeing her sweetly. Loralee immediately knew he like her, too.

_True love, _Loralee thought. _Too bad it will never happen to me. _

"And why do you stow this great honor on me, m'lady?" he asked, bowing slightly and chastely kissing her hand.

"It's only proper for the best man in the whole corps de ballet to get his merchandise for free. I wish to be of help to you," she managed to say out loud, obviously longing for an apron to cover her face with so he wouldn't see her now deep red blush.

Loralee smiled happily at the two of them.

"If you'll excuse me, Rosemary and George. I really must get back to my room. If you'd wish to see me in my room later, Rosemary, my room is down that corridor, your last left, first right, and the door at the very end."

Rosemary or George didn't seem to notice, they were too intent on staring into each other's eyes. Loralee rolled her eyes, a bad habit she was getting into, and went off to her room.

Upon entering, she found a candle and lit it. Flopping down onto the bed, most unlady-like, she sighed, too tired to move any part of her body.

_Knock. . . knock. . ._

Loralee jumped about three feet in the air when she heard the knocking from her mirror. She would have done the same if it was from the door, also, because for the past few minutes she had been dreaming deeply about a herself in a true love story. It had left her with no memory of where she was and what position she was in.

Mid jump she let out a strangled cry noticing where the knock had come from and tried to untangle herself from the bed sheets which had somehow gotten themselves tangled with her feet. While trying to untangle them she fell off the bed and groaned when a pain went through her bottom.

Another bruise in that soft area and it was _his_ fault again. Damn him!

"Get in, Erik! You know I can't open that bloody mirror. . ."

The mirror slid back and Erik gracefully entered, shutting the mirror behind him immediately after he did so. He growled when he entered and glared at her.

"I was hoping on a respectful entry, my dear, but you just had to ruin it all."

He expected her to get mad and make a cold remark back at him or something among that manner. Instead she just looked at him funny before throwing her head back and laughing.

Erik watched Loralee laugh. Unlike all the laughs he had gotten in his past, this one was genuine and warm, not cold and bitter, laced with sarcasm and evil.

It didn't last long but it still brought his stone face into a humored smirk. She looked at him with a smile before going back to untangle her feet.

"Well, I'm terribly sorry, Monsieur Erik, for disturbing your act of curtesy. I hate to admit it, but I'm not one to follow those rules. It makes your life so. . . so dull."

"Are you insulting the people who are higher in society than you?" he asked, eye brow raised.

"Are you defending them?" she retorted back.

"Not at all. I have to admit I hate them too. No one has ever shown me respect except you, Madame Giry, and Chris-"

Erik stopped abruptly, and his face turned cold. She could see him tense up until he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Obviously he was about to say Christine, but even the simple name could unlock so many feelings within him.

Suddenly, in an attempt to get her out of his mind, Erik swooped down on Loralee and started to help her out of the sheets. She tried to help him but stopped after she touched his hand and got a large static shock. Yelping in surprise, she thought it best to just let him do the work.

After a few minutes, she had her legs free and her blanket back neatly on her bed. Standing up, she smoothed out her dress and looked to see Erik looming over her.

"Why did you come here?" she asked.

Erik opened his mouth to answer but then shut it.

Why was he here? he thought. Surely he must of had a reason to come up so many stair cases to see her. But think all he could, he had no reason what so ever.

"I don't know why," he said, surprise in his own voice. "I was probably bored and just wanted to talk."

Loralee smirked at him but stopped when he sent her an ice cold glare. Thinking better of it, she shut her mouth and sat down besides her vanity.

"Well, I have dinner with Madame Giry today so I won't be able to do any chores for you."

"Perhaps tomorrow," he said shortly.

Loralee chewed her lip. What in the world was she supposed to do to entertain a bored so called phantom in her tiny run down room?

Erik glanced at her expectantly, and she racked her brain for something to do. Anything!

"If you like, I could get some-"

"Beth! Oh, Beth! I have great news!"

Loralee glanced at the door where the yelling was coming from. Quick foot steps could be heard from outside of her room, swiftly descending the hall.

Erik growled with anger and grabbed onto Loralee's throat.

"You! You made her come. It's all a trap."

"No. . . Please. . . She's my friend. . . I didn't know. . ."

Erik's grip loosened and soon she was able to pry off his hand. He glared at her but she didn't notice, hurrying him to the mirror.

"Quick! Get out!"

Erik opened it and then slipped inside, shutting it just as Loralee's door burst open.

"Beth! He told me he'd like me to go out with him to dinner tomorrow!"

"That's great, Rosemary."

Loralee tried to walk forward but found her dress stuck in the mirror. She couldn't move away from it with out ripping her dress which she most certainly didn't want to do. Casually, she put her foot up, pretending to rub her calf with it but instead slightly knocking on the mirror, hoping Erik was still there and could open the door.

Normally visitors would have been curious why the person who owned the room didn't open the door for them, or came up to their side to congratulate them, but Loralee thanked heaven that Rosemary was in too good of a mood to notice.

"Tell me all about it," Loralee said, cursing that Erik wasn't there to open the mirror. Instead of sitting down in her chair, she motioned Rosemary to sit there and instead sat down next to the mirror, hiding her caught skirt.

"Well, thanks to you, I sized him up for shoes and told him I'd give them to him as soon as possible for free. He was flirting with me all the way through and then. . . then he asked me to accompany him to dinner tomorrow night."

Rosemary seemed to look at nothing and had a far away look on her face.

"How romantic," Loralee said, happy for her friend but rather unfocused on her recent situation. Rosemary unfortunately noticed her lack of interest.

"Is something the matter, Beth?"

"Um, actually yes," Loralee said, getting an idea. "On your way out, can you tell Madame Giry to come to my room and help me with my mirror?"

Rosemary looked at her funny, oblivious to that the mirror was a secret door, but nodded her head anyway.

"I'll get her right away. Thank you again, Beth. How shall I ever repay you?"

"It was a pleasure to help you, Rosemary."

One last hug by the mirror and Rosemary was off to get Madame Giry. Loralee turned back to the mirror and tried to pull her dress out but it wouldn't budge.

"If you're behind there Erik, and not helping me, you're going to get it."

No answer.

She sighed and slumped down by the mirror, gazing intently at the door. When she heard footsteps coming down the hall, the unmistakable "thunk" of Madame Giry's cane, and three sharp knocks on the door, Loralee stood up.

"Come in!"

Madame Giry came in, shutting the door behind her. Looking around, she noticed Loralee's strange place of standing, right by the edge of the mirror.

"You needed mirror help, Loralee?"

"Uh, yes. Well, you see, I was giving Rosemary help for something, and then after I did so, I came to my room and had a chat with Erik. Then Rosemary came in suddenly and in the case of getting Erik back through the mirror quickly, he got my dress stuck in the mirror. Obviously he's not there any more because he won't answer my pleas to open the mirror."

"And let me guess, you want me to help you out of the mirror?"

"Yes please."

"I don't know the trick to this particular mirror. I could go through another passage I know and get Erik up here to let you out."

"That would be great, Madame."

"Erik should be with you in about twenty minutes."

"Thank you."

Madame Giry swiftly left, leaving Loralee all alone by the mirror. She couldn't reach the book on her vanity to read so she settled down by just doing some ballet stretches on the ground. They were finished in about fifteen minutes and then she stood up to get the kinks out of her back.

Turning back to the mirror, she traced the frame delicately with her fingers. It was carved in the shape of leaves and fancy swirl designs and made out of a gold metal material. She wondered if it were real gold.

_Don't be silly, _she scolded herself. _The architects wouldn't waste such money on such small a detail._

Turning her eyes from the mirror she turned to look at her reflection.

Her skin was still the pale shade making her dark hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes stick out remarkably. Her lips were rather small and a light pink color making her bottom face seem rather tight, which she didn't appreciate. Her dusky blue eyes normally would have been overlooked if it weren't for her black eyelashes which framed them and brought out their dull blue color fiercely.

As she was looking at her reflection, she thought she saw a glimmer of light on the other side of the mirror. Looking closer, she could make out the faint sound of water dripping and more splotches of gold light. Thinking she must be seeing things, Loralee closed her eyes and pinched herself, reopening them to look again.

The strange light patches were still there and the water sounded clearer than before. She reached out a hand, amazed, to trace the light.

Loralee stopped short, though, when her door was opened fiercely by an angry looking man.

In an instant she recognized who it was and whipped around, backing up against the mirror to get as far away from him as possible.

It was Hector Chaffee.


	14. A Not So Happy Encounter

**Thanks again for all the reviews! It really makes me inspired to put up the chapters. **

**WARNING! This chapter does get a bit bloody and maybe even disturbing. It may even be a bit of a Mature chapter, but I kept the rating at Teen. You may even think it wasn't that bad, but it's better to be safe than sorry - so I'm warning you.**

**Ethalas Tuath'an: smiles evilly It was rather evil to leave that cliffy, wasn't it? I surely would hate the person writing this for leaving it like that, too, if I didn't write it. The mirror incident of Loralee getting her skirt caught in it I thought at first would just be rather humorous. Then the thought of how she hadn't seen Hector came into my mind, so I decided to make that encounter. But any ways, here's Chapter Fourteen to quench your curiosity! **

**RedRoseBlackRibbon: Well, I can't really complain. Even though twenty reviews is less than what some other stories have gotten, I'm glad I get such good ones. I hope you review again:)**

**AngelicFlutist: I'm sorry I wasn't able to put up your Chapter 12 review on the Chapter 13 page so I'll just do it quickly here. **

**-Chapter 12- I agree with you! Yesterday night I was actually watching PotO and when he was singing with the music box at the end I almost hugged the TV. I restrained myself, though, because one of my parents friends was over. :(**

**-Chapter 13- Here's the answer to your question on whether Erik will safe her or not:**

Chapter Fourteen: A Not So Happy Encounter

"You!" Loralee said, voice breaking with fright. Hector just smirked and came into her room, locking the door behind him.

"I've been looking for you, my dear Loralee Donoghue. . . or should I say Beth McLay?"

By now Loralee was tugging at her dress, trying to get it out, ripped or not. The mirror was so tight, though, that it wouldn't even budge.

Hector didn't notice, but instead he came over ever so slowly.

"I've been looking all over Paris for you. How, you ask, did I find you? Well let's just say I have. . . _connections_."

Loralee gave up trying to get her dress out of the mirror and turned to him.

"You're scary talk doesn't move me the least," she spat out at him. His smirk was wiped away but came back when he saw her struggling with her caught dress.

"I see you're having some difficulties, my sweet," he said, coming up.

"It's none of your business, demon!" she yelled. He quickly covered her mouth with his hand.

"Not so loud, Loralee. We don't want the others to hear."

In reply, Loralee bit down on his hand and smacked it away, pushing him away from her. This did nothing but make him angrier.

As quick as a blink, her arms were pinned above her head on the mirror with one of his hands, and in his other held a knife to her throat.

"Make a sound, my sweet, and you die," he said icily, his face contorted with rage. As if to show his point, he dug the knife deeper into her throat so that a faint line of blood sprang up.

Biting her lip so she wouldn't scream out with anger, fright, and pain, Loralee could only just wait and see what he'd do.

The knife left her throat but she dared not talk. She wasn't able to in a short while, though, because soon his mouth was upon hers, forcing it open and his tongue down her throat. She yelped in surprise but stopped when she felt his fist collide with her stomach, making her knees buckle. His hand holding hers was the only thing that was keeping her up now.

The taste of his mouth was heavily laden with the scent of alcohol and nauseating her more and more every second. Finally she could take it no longer and bit down on his tongue.

Hector pulled away, yelling in anger, blood in his mouth. He punched her in the face twice and then brought the dagger to her chest.

"No more fooling around, Loralee. No more hiding."

He kissed her mouth once more leaving his blood all over her face before he cut open the front of her dress, corset, and under dress so that her bare skin was left open. In doing so, he also left a long bleeding cut on her skin from the knife.

Loralee couldn't stand the pain and shrieked out in agony. He silenced her with a punch the face which left her dazed and to weak to fight back when he started to claw greedily at her now blood crusted skin.

When his bloody hand trailed up her skirts, viciously ripping them off her body so that she was now only in her torn under dress, she regained enough strength to do the last self defense move she knew. Quickly, Loralee brought up her knee unexpectedly and onto his groin.

Hector grunted in pain, his hands letting go of her skirts and arms as he stumbled backwards.

Loralee noticed that she was now free from the skirt that was stuck in the mirror, so she started making her way for the door. The next few moments were a whirlwind in her mind.

Hector had gained enough strength to get back up and push Loralee roughly back to the mirror, making he head collide sharply with the surface of it. As he made for her, hand raised for a punch, an echoing voice spoke out, chilling both to the bone.

"Leave the girl alone. . ."

Before either could react, a small explosion went off at Loralee's feet, shrouding her in red smoke and sparks so that Hector wasn't able to see her. At the same moment Loralee felt the mirror behind her open quickly and a pair of hands pull her back.

Loralee could hear the mirror shut in front her somewhere before she saw the swirling image of Erik holding her.

"Erik. . ." she managed to choke out, before her world went black.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Erik had just been sitting down to draw absently with the water colors that Loralee gave him when Madame Giry rushed into his domain.

"Erik, you fool! You left Loralee stuck in the mirror!"

He stood up glaring at her.

"Who invited you to barge in on my private domain?" he growled, wondering what in the world Madame Giry meant by 'stuck in the mirror'.

"I did, but that's not the point. When you left in a hurry, you also left Loralee's dress caught in the mirror so now she can't move away with out ripping her dress."

"Let her rip her dress for all I care. She set me up to be seen by that silly little girl."

"No she didn't. It was an accident. Loralee would never do such a thing."

"Indeed," he growled, turning his back to her.

"Don't you turn your back on her, Erik! Don't you dare walk away from her now."

He froze, every limb shaking with anger.

"Go away, Madame Giry."

He started walking again but was stopped by Madame Giry's hand on his arm. She spun him around and smacked him sharply across his face. Then looking calmly into his flaming eyes, she spoke.

"Don't leave her like that, Erik. She doesn't want her friend betraying her."

Erik stared at her.

"Friend, Madame? Friend! Ha! She is anything but."

Secretly he hoped Loralee considered him such a person, and Madame Giry could see so from his eyes.

"She doesn't have any other friends that she completely trusts except for you and I, Erik. Don't ruin it now."

Erik growled with anger but admitted to himself he wanted to be friends with her. Swiftly he walked past Madame Giry, putting on his cloak and getting into his gondola.

"This better be quick," he grumbled before pushing off after Madame Giry got into the boat.

After rowing across to the other shore, he got out and walked silently to the mirror of Loralee's room. When he was in the passage way that contained her mirror, he heard a thud against it and a yell of pain.

"It's Loralee!" Madame Giry said, fright clearly written on her face when she heard the angry growl of a man and another thud against the mirror.

Both Madame Giry and Erik went forward to see the gruesome sight through the mirror.

A large and angry man with black curly hair and a mustache had her pinned up against the mirror. The man's mouth was bleeding and the blood from his mouth was all over her own face. Loralee's dress was cut open by a knife that was discarded on the floor, and the dress was tossed carelessly away so that she only had her torn under dress on. It was open on the top to reveal a long cut going vertically down her torso which was sprouting blood all over her chest. Her legs and skirt of the dress was mostly clean except for a few splotches.

The man had her two hands held above her head and his other hand was trailing up underneath her dress and onto her thighs.

"It's Hector," Madame Giry gasped.

"It's who?" Erik said, anger coursing through his veins as he saw the state Loralee was in.

"It's her ex-fiancé, Hector Chaffee." Then cautiously, Madame Giry glanced at Erik and said, "You know him."

"Unfortunately I do," Erik growled, recognition of the man entering his mind immediately. His hands clenching and unclenching, reaching for his punjab lasso. Madame Giry's hand stopped him.

"No, Erik! Do not kill him."

"But look at what he's doing!"

"Don't kill him or anyone else, Erik. Loralee, for one, wouldn't like you to start murdering again."

Erik, trembling with rage, went towards the mirror.

"Well, I'm not going to do nothing, that's for sure," he growled, a plan already working out in his mind. Both Madame Giry and Erik looked back to see what was happening.

The almost unconscious Loralee suddenly realized that Hector was trailing his hand up her thigh and suddenly brought her knee up on his groin. Hector grunted and fell back as Loralee tried to run away. She was pushed back roughly to the mirror, though, which finally made Erik lose his temper.

"Leave the girl alone. . ." he said, using his ventriloquism skills so that he would appear to be speaking in-between Hector and Loralee. Even Loralee looked amazed and was even more amazed when an explosive Erik had secretly thrown in-between the two went off, leaving Hector in a state of confusion.

Madame Giry went forward and opened the mirror wide enough to pull Loralee in through. She gave her to Erik and shut the mirror sharply, looking back to see Hector's amazed, scared, and confused reaction when he found out Loralee wasn't in the room any more. He recovered quickly enough to hide Loralee's dress in her wardrobe and wash up the blood with the water from her washing basin carelessly. Then he was out of her room just before Madame Giry heard Loralee choke out, "Erik. . ." from behind.

Turning around, she saw a sight that she thought she'd never see in her life.

Erik was cradling Loralee to his chest, wiping away the blood from her face with his handkerchief and blinking away the tears from the corners of his eyes.

When Loralee said his name, he sighed out with relief, holding her limp body close to him. Madame Giry came over and took his now blood soaked handkerchief as he covered Loralee's vandalized body with his cloak.

"She's not safe in her room any more," Madame Giry said. Erik looked up at her, face clear of emotion yet eyes still full of worry and anger.

"I'll take her to my house. I can take care of her there."

Madame Giry nodded, handing his handkerchief back to him.

"I'll go have a talk with Monsieur Chaffee," she said before hurrying off down the hallway, leaving Erik alone with Loralee in his arms.

It took Erik shorter than normal to get back to his house even with the extra weight because he was so worried for his newest so called friend.

Loralee's breathing was rather shallow from her blood loss but it was calm now that she was in safe arms. He looked around for a place to set her, and finally, after much mental arguing, lowered her onto Christine's old swan bed.

Getting bandages, water, and a needle with thread, Erik went to work on her. He wiped away all her blood and made sure not to let the torn pieces of the thin dress fall away so that he could see her breasts. He kept them covered at all times but still managed to wipe away all the blood. He then took the needle and thread and stitched together the deeply torn parts of the cut skin along her torso. He finished stitching just as Madame Giry came in.

"I talked to Hector and forbid him to ever come back to the Opera House. He was clearly shaken from your clever trick and agreed hastily before running as fast as he could in the opposite direction."

"Good," Erik said. He looked back at Loralee once more before going over and getting a spare night dress out of the closet that was once meant for Christine.

"Can you dress her, Madame?"

"Of course," she said, taking it and shooing Erik out of the room.

After getting Loralee out of the ruined under dress, Madame Giry slipped her sleeping form into the soft material of the night gown. After covering her with the bed's blankets, Loralee smiled in her sleep and snuggled into the covers. Madame Giry put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but instead of comforting her even more, Loralee yelp with fright, curled up into a ball, and started to whimper in her sleep.

Sighing, Madame Giry left Loralee. Erik was sitting at the organ which he hadn't played for over a year now. She new he vowed not to play the organ or sing ever since Christine left, but Madame Giry had a hope that Loralee would help music back into his life.

Erik looked up when Madame Giry entered the main room.

"She was sleeping peacefully, but at the touch of my hand she drew back, frightened. She's very defensive even in her sleep."

Erik could only nod.

"You may go now," he told Madame Giry. She nodded and made for another secret passage way that would lead her out of his secret house. Before she left, Erik's voice stopped her.

"Madame?"

"Yes Erik."

"Thank you. . ."

She knew that he worked hard to force those words out of his mouth and smiled deeply at him.

"You're welcome. Take good care of Loralee."

Then she was gone.

As soon as he knew Madame Giry was gone for good, Erik got up, hastening to Loralee's bed side.

Madame Giry had been right. She was clearly frightened in her dream. The blankets were already twisted around her moving form as she whimpered and tensed in her sleep. It pained Erik so see another soul besides himself sleep like this.

Sitting down on the side of the bed, Erik tucked a piece of stray hair behind her ear. Loralee just whimpered and pulled back making Erik sigh.

Then, before he could stop himself, Erik started singing. It only registered to him half way through the soft lullaby that he promised not to sing when Christine left. He tried to stop but it was to comforting. Too addictive.

So, with help from the unconscious Loralee who was slowly going into a peaceful slumber with help of the ethereal voice, Erik started his music again.

He started to live again.


	15. In the Arms of an Angel

**Thanks again for the great reviews! And now, I do hate to admit, but the next few chapters do not have that much action. The story will make up for it later hopefully. Chapter Fifteen is half way point in the story if you don't count the epilogue.**

**Demonmyst: Thanks for the encouragement! **

**AngelicFlutist: I was afraid that chapter might have been a bit _too_ descriptive, but I'm glad you liked it! **

**WashoopiCandi: Aaw! Thanks so much! You really made my day! **

**Ethalas Tuath'an: Okay - you're reviews make me have a deep urge of just hugging you, so. . . I give you a hug! Oh, and I didn't intentionally write the "rescue-thing" from Madame Giry's point of view, it just sorta. . . happened. Glad you liked it!**

Chapter Fifteen: In the Arms of an Angel

A soft organ melody woven of glee and a sense of rebirth woke Loralee up that Saturday morning.

Sighing with contempt, Loralee snuggled in closer to the warm silk sheets, drowning in the joyful music.

Wait. . . warm silk sheets?

_Organ_ music!

Loralee immediately sat up, staring at her surroundings. She yelled out in pain from the long cut on her chest she had gotten from Hector.

_Hector! Where is he? What happened to me?_

Think as she could, she couldn't figure out.

Looking around at her surroundings, Loralee saw she was sleeping in a swan shaped bed with red lush silk sheets and pillows. A black sheen was covering the bed and made the room around her blurry. She was wearing a soft cotton night dress and her hair hung loosely around her face.

_I must be in Hector's secret hide out!_ she thought, terrified.

"Loralee?"

She yelped at the voice speaking out to her, to terrified to register it as musical and kind.

"Loralee, it's me. . ."

"Get away from me Hector!" Loralee shouted, hiding herself underneath the covers when she saw a man walking towards her through the black curtains.

"Loralee. . ."

She didn't see the man pull up the curtains but she curled up into a tight ball when she felt a weight sink down onto the mattress next to her.

"Go away. . ." she mumbled, tears of fear now tumbling out of her shut eyes.

"Loralee. . . It's me. . ."

Erik gently pulled the covers back from Loralee and turned her shaking body to face him. Her eyes were shut tightly and her face turned away from him.

"Look at me, Loralee," he said, kindly, wiping the tears from her face.

Slowly, Loralee took a shuddering and opened her eyes, expecting to see Hector sitting there but was utterly surprised when she instead saw Erik.

It was obvious he didn't sleep at all the past night. Well, she couldn't really tell if it was night or not down here but she guessed it was. He had discarded his cloak, coat, vest, and cravat and instead wore a ruffled and partially unbuttoned shirt with a dark green robe of velvet. His eyes were soft with care and his fingers were red from playing what must have been an organ in the other room.

"Erik?" she said, the single word choked on tears. She quickly wiped them away, straightening up and regaining her composure when she saw who it was.

"Erik, I'm so sorry, I didn't know-"

His finger to her lips silenced her. She looked down, ashamed at her actions, and blushed from embarrassment.

"You need rest, Loralee," he said, pushing her back down gently.

"What happened?"

"Rest," he said, his voice making her eyelids droop down.

"I want to know what happened!" she said fiercely. Then more quietly, "I don't remember anything except Hector entering the room and my dress caught in the mirror."

Erik sighed, leaning back on the head post of the bed.

"I wasn't there for the whole thing," he said, giving into his friends protests. Absent mindedly, he fingered with a strand of Loralee's silky hair.

"I just got back down to my home when Madame Giry came bursting in blaming me for getting your dress caught and making me come back up to release you from the mirror. When we got to the mirror, we saw Hector vandalizing you in the most crude manner with a knife in his hand and blood every where. You had been stripped down to your under dress and were caked in blood."

Loralee shivered, suddenly remembering the details.

"Who was that voice?" she asked. Erik looked at her questioningly. "You know, that voice that came from in-between Hector and I telling him to leave me alone. . ."

Erik had a trace of a smile on his lips as he looked down at her.

"That, my dear, is what I was about to explain."

He took his hand away from her hair and instead fingered with his robe cuff.

"I was about to strangle Hector with my lasso, but Madame Giry stopped me saying you wouldn't like it if I killed. I couldn't just lete Hector treat you like that, though, so I used my ventriloquism and magician skills to save you."

"You mean, you were that voice, and you set off the smoke bomb?"

"Exactly. While you were both in the state of confusion with the smoke, I opened the mirror and Madame Giry took you through, leaving Hector in probably the most confusing situation he'd ever been in."

A faint smile of victory and humor appeared on Loralee's face as she pictured Hector gazing at an empty and blood stained room.

"And then you took me to your home?"

"Yes, the place you are currently in. Five levels beneath the Opera House."

"Amazing. . ." Loralee said, now feeling completely safe. She yawned which brought Erik's attention back to her.

"You should rest."

Loralee didn't argue this time when Erik pushed her down onto the pillows and pulled the blankets up to her chin. The smile was now clearly visible on her face and her eye lids were steadily drooping down. As Erik went to leave, her hand on his stopped him.

"Erik?" she yawned.

"Yes?"

"Why did you do all this for me?" she asked.

"Well, I guess that's what I'd do for. . . for a friend?"

His statement was posed more as a question, as if he was asking Loralee's permission to be a friend. Her answer was a warm smile and sparkling eyes.

"Of course I'll be your friend, Erik. I think I always have been."

"Nonsense," Erik said, almost laughing at her absurdity. He let down the black curtains and walked over to the door. Just as he got there, her voice stopped him again.

"Oh, and Erik?"

"What now?" he said, fingers itching to get to the organ's keys. Her questions were starting to drive him mad.

"Thank you. . ."

Through the black curtain and her drowsy eyes, Loralee could have sworn she saw his first honest to goodness smile.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

"Maman? Where are you going now?"

"I'm sorry, my dear, but I must go."

"But you were away all yesterday night and now you're going to be gone for most of the day! I'm your daughter and wish to spend time with you!"

Madame Giry sighed. She turned around from the door she was about to exit and came back to her daughter, Meg, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

"My dear, I will not be gone all day. Maybe most of the morning, but I promise you that when I get home we can spend the rest of the day together. Maybe even out to lunch."

Meg's pouting face quickly turned into a smile.

"Promise, maman?"

"I promise, darling. Now go back to what ever you were doing."

Meg looked around at the book she was reading but it suddenly seemed uninteresting to her.

"Maman? Can I go visit Beth McLay?" Meg innocently asked her mother who suddenly turned as stiff as a board.

"Maman? Are you all right?"

"What? Oh, yes. . . yes I'm fine. You must not go out and visit Beth, my dear. She is. . . she is ill."

"That's terrible," Meg said. "Perhaps later I shall see her and wish her a quick recovery."

"No!" Madame Giry almost shouted the words and Meg looked at her mother with surprise. Madame Giry suddenly realized what she had done and loosened down, breathing in deeply.

"I'm sorry Meg, but Beth herself asked that she had no visitors. It would be very unwise to not pay heed to her commands."

Meg nodded.

"Now, I must go, Meg. I'll see you later!"

Madame Giry then slipped into the hallway, rubbing the back of her neck and yawning. It was Saturday morning, the morning that she usually slept in on. She did not this morning, though, because of the event with Loralee and Hector last evening. She left earlier this morning instead of her much needed sleep to see how Erik was doing with her.

In Christine's dust covered dressing room, Madame Giry went through the mirror and into the familiar passage way. She navigated her way through the dark with a lamp and soon found herself by the passage way that lead to Erik's house. She went through it but stopped halfway.

There was a light melody drifting through the deep cavern of joy. The sound of the music stopped Madame Giry short because she had not heard such wonders for over a year now and knew that it was his first time playing it for that amount of time.

Erik had started his music again!

And if she wasn't fooled, it was by help of Loralee.

As she started up again, now more quickly to get better sound of the music, it stopped abruptly. Wondering what had happened, Madame Giry hurried on.

When she entered Erik's home, she noticed lots of candles lit by the organ and Erik no where in sight. As she walked up the stairs to see what he was playing, she could hear faint voices in the next room before she saw Erik exit, a true smile on his face.

Madame Giry almost dropped her jaw at the sight of Erik looking like he was finally coming back to his senses and leaving his grief behind. When he spotted Madame Giry by his organ, his smile was wiped away.

"I just put her back to sleep," he said as if she just asked him a question. "There's nothing to fear. You can go."

Madame Giry didn't budge.

"Erik, you're playing music again!"

He just glared at her, warning her not to say anything to do with Christine. She immediately shut her mouth about the music and instead let her gaze wander over to the room that was supposed to be Christine's.

"Can I see her?"

"I already told you, she's asleep. But I guess you can," he said, sitting down at the organ and scratching a few notes onto the paper without even playing them.

Madame Giry entered the room to see a comfortable looking Loralee asleep in the swan bed. The black curtains around the bed were up showing that Erik had just been there and a smile was on her peaceful sleeping face.

Smiling with happiness that Loralee was having what seemed a quick recovery, Madame Giry went over and put down the curtains.

Turning back around, she went to exit Erik's house.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Meanwhile, five stories above the ground, Meg Giry was getting restless in her room.

The once exciting book now seemed lame and boring, practicing for the newest opera felt the same, and her friend's sudden sickness was bugging her.

_Go and see her. She'll want company,_ said part of Meg's mind. She frowned, pacing her room.

_No!_ she thought back. _Maman said that Beth wanted no visitors. I can't betray her wishes._

_No visitors? Does that really sound like Beth?_

_Yes! It does! _she replied triumphantly. Beth was very mysterious and secluded at times. It surely wasn't shocking when she wanted some time alone, and she never seemed to venture forth into the public.

_Still, your friend will be wanting company. What if she changed her mind and is now begging for a person to talk with or get help from?_

Meg bit her lip. Her mind was correct. What if Beth had changed her mind? It was very common for someone to do so when they are sick.

_Well, I guess a little peak wouldn't hurt, _Meg thought to herself, giving into her mind.

She quickly pulled her hair up with a ribbon and straightened her dress before running off to see Beth. Their room's were rather close by so it only took Meg a few minutes before she was knocking on her door.

"Beth? Beth, can I come in?"

No answer.

"Beth, it's me, Meg. Let me in, please! I've come to see you."

Still nothing.

Meg sighed, thinking her friend was too sick to get up and slowly opened the door.

Stepping inside, Meg called out again in the darkness.

"Beth, wake up. I've come to talk with you. . . And where's the candle? I can't see a thing in here!"

Finally Meg found the candle lying on Beth's vanity as if it were knocked down. She picked it up and lit it with a match she found on her bedside table. When the light filtered through Beth's room, she couldn't find Beth any where.

"Beth? Oh god, don't tell me you're at the hospital."

Meg looked around. She felt the bed and saw it was cold as if no one had touched it all throughout the night. The key to her door was thrown carelessly on the ground and her wardrobe door was slightly open.

When Meg turned around, though, she saw a sight that nearly made her gag.

The basin of water used for washing faces was a dark red color.

The color of blood.

Meg covered her mouth to cut short the scream it was about to issue forth. Looking around, she found red stains of blood on the mirror and ground and a rag stained red from a careless job of cleaning up the blood.

"Oh, Beth. . ." Meg said into her hand. Was it possible for Beth to cough up this much blood?

She turned to leave, but a corner of a dress peaked through the open wardrobe door. It was a lovely blue color and made out of what seemed a soft material hemmed with silk.

Immediately, Meg bustled forward, wondering why her friend would have left such a pretty dress so carelessly in an open wardrobe. Anyone who would see it would most likely attempt to steal it.

Opening the door to tuck it safely back in, Meg found out why.

The dress was torn open, and the entire front of the top was covered in blood with a few splotches on the skirt. Meg had to cover her mouth again.

Beth was most certainly not sick from the signs of this dress, but instead she had most certainly been attacked.

Meg then broke down in tears, crumpling to the ground just as a voice from the door shouted out her name.


	16. The Coincidental C

**Chapter Sixteen: Nothing really special, I hate to admit, but I still hope you like it. It features a _very_ private Mother and Daughter conversation and Erik with a shut down brain. **

**Ethalas Tuath'an: Ah! Questions galore! I'm not going to answer them all because that would give the whole story away. You might find out about Meg's reaction in this chapter and all I can say about Madame Giry's thought of Erik and Loralee together is that she won't mind too much. Keep reading and you'll get all your answers, and thanks again for reviewing! **

Chapter Sixteen: The Coincidental C

"Meg Giry! I told you not to. . ."

Meg looked up at her mother through tear covered eyes and saw her mother looking at her angrily.

"So you found out?" she asked Meg, the words more of a statement. Meg nodded and hurried to her mother.

"Was Beth attacked? Is she okay? Where is she?"

"I. . . I cannot tell you, Meg."

"You can't tell me? But I have to know what happened to my friend!"

"Meg-"

"Please tell me."

Madame Giry looked at Meg sharply before saying, "Promise to keep this a deepest, darkest secret?"

"I promise," Meg said, no false hint in her voice.

Madame Giry got the key from the floor and locked the door. After gazing at the mirror for a few moments, she motioned Meg to sit on the bed.

"You know the new ballet mistress as Beth McLay, right?"

Meg nodded, confused.

"Well, her real name is Loralee Donoghue."

Meg's mouth went slack.

"You. . . You mean she's the girl who Hector Chaffee came to you about?"

"Yes."

"What is she doing in the Opera House, then? Hector seems like a very amiable man."

Madame Giry gave Meg a sharp look which made her quiet.

"Anyway, luckily by your innocent thinking, she got a place in the chorus. When you noted she'd get tired very easily, I went off to find out why, and I found her dancing in a secluded room as if she were a ballerina genius. When I got sick I realized I was getting too old for my job and gave it to her."

"What's this have to do with the attack, though?" Meg asked, clearly impatient. Madame Giry noticed.

"Patience, child, patience." Meg pouted but remained silent allowing her mother to go on.

"My job, my dear, is not just the ballet mistress. I'm also the Phantom's messenger." Meg gasped, her hand over her mouth and eyes wide with shock.

"But Christine! I mean, didn't Raoul kill him when he rescued Christine. I couldn't find him but only found his mask which means he's dead or-"

Her mother's hand silenced her.

"You could call him dead but only emotionally. Christine was his world and chance for a normal life, but she left him to wallow in his grief and pity till the end of time. The Phantom is what you could call a musical genius and marvels at the organ, but hadn't played it since Christine left till yesterday."

"What's _this_ got to do with Beth- I mean Loralee's attack?"

"Well, Loralee had met the Phantom before I gave her the job it seems. She was lost one night and he decided to play a trick on her, but after she fainted from fright at the sight of him, he brought her back to her room, leaving his cape with her."

"So that's where she got the black cape. But why did such a fowl murderous creature give such a thing to her?"

"Meg!" Madame Giry snapped. "He is a murderer, no doubt, but he is a man like the rest of us. He just had a very harsh background and was molded by such experiences into the person he is today."

Meg looked at her feet in shame.

"Anyway, she became his messenger and was doing the job happily and peacefully until yesterday night. Loralee had a friend over, I guess, and left her for a while as she went back to her room. There she chatted to Erik-"

"Who's Erik?" Meg asked.

"Erik is the Phantom's name."

"He has a name?"

Madame Giry just looked at her daughter sharply.

"As I was saying, she was talking to Erik until her friend was heard nearby. The mirror is a secret passageway that Erik gets into her room through, so in his haste to get out, Loralee's dress got caught in the mirror. She told her friend to get me and I came back. Unfortunately I didn't know how to work the mirror, so I had to go through a different passageway to get Erik to free her. When the two of us came back up to get Loralee, she was being raped by Hector Chaffee."

"What?" Meg asked, shocked. Her face had gone pale. "And did. . . did Hector succeed?"

"No. Erik got her to safety before Hector could do any real damage."

Meg let go of a breath she had been holding.

"Where is she?"

"Erik has her and is taking care of her now. The worst she got was a few punches to the head and a large cut on her torso which has been seen to and should clean up nicely. A scar will be left, no doubt."

"Did Loralee get all her scars from Hector, then?" Meg asked timidly, as if she didn't want to know the answer.

"I'm afraid so," Madame Giry said, her voice also showing she wished it wasn't so.

"And Erik won't. . . you know. . . hurt her or murder her like he did to Piangi or Joseph?"

"No, he would never do such a thing to her."

Meg's eyes widened.

"Does he love her!"

"Oh, heavens no! Loralee is purely a friend as it's finest."

Meg's question wouldn't leave Madame Giry's head, though. Was it true that they were only friends? Erik had been happier than ever now that he had Loralee as a messenger and even Loralee was sharing more smiles with the world. Could Loralee be the next love in his life?

For now, she'd try to forget and instead take Meg out to the lunch she deserved dearly.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Loralee had slept till the early evening peacefully, dreams of music and friendship flooding her soul with a sense of love and happiness. It wasn't until she woke up that she remembered the other night with Hector. The memories made her shudder with fear, but then she remembered that she was in Erik's care and had nothing to fear. Hector would most likely never expect her to be with the Phantom of the Opera.

Feeling enough strength to get up, Loralee slowly swung her feet out of the bed, ignoring the pain from her torso cut. It took her a while to find the mechanism that opened the curtain, but she finally found the rope that raised it.

Supporting herself on a chair nearby, Loralee stood on shaky feet. As she did so, she felt a great gush of cold air smack into her scantily clad body.

Loralee tried to pull off the bed sheet but it was too heavy to lift seeing that she was still weak from the incident. Instead, she made her way over to a plush chair that sat at the far end of the room which had a large black velvet robe draped over it.

_Erik's, no doubt,_ she thought as she pulled it on. It was certainly too large for her, but at least warmed her chilled body and made her more presentable.

Slowly, she went over to the door that lead out into Erik's main room next to the lake's edge. He was sitting at the organ still, hair mused up and robe now discarded, furiously scribbling out some melody on a ink splotched piece of staffed paper. He was so engulfed in his music that he didn't notice Loralee until she made her presence known by her hand on his shoulder.

Jumping up, Erik turned around to face her, eyes contorted in anger. They softened, though, when they rested upon Loralee's quivering form, and he dropped his quill, forgetting about his music momentarily.

"You shouldn't be up," he said, scooting over a little so Loralee would have room to sit on the bench. She sat down gladly, massaging her sore feet. Hector's attempted rape seemed to have drowned out more of her energy that she would have imagined possible.

"Thanks," she said.

"For what?" Erik asked, almost humorously. His new friend only looked him in the eye showing she was dead serious.

"For everything. I do admit, you're not any lady's typical knight in shining armor. . ."

Erik tensed and spoke bitterly.

"Terribly sorry, mademoiselle, that I am not your perfect knight in shining armor."

"Oh, I don't care one bit. Other dimwitted people might, but I think it's a bit more thrilling having a Phantom save you from a mad man." Erik had no idea what to think of what she just said, and instead just stared at his unfinished song as Loralee continued. "But that's nothing to do with what I was saying. I just want to thank you for saving me, taking care of me. . . everything."

"Well, I must admit it's not been the most thrilling experience as having you as my so called damsel in distress." Loralee just quietly snorted with laughter. "And I'm also sorry to say that if you delay me from my music any longer, you shall have to hope that some other knight in shining armor will jump out of the shadows and save you from my wrath."

"Go ahead, I won't bother you," she said, gesturing to his work. He didn't need any reassurance, and quick as a blink was back to his music.

Loralee just watched him for what seemed like an hour. He would play a few chords and notes on the piano before hastily scribbling them down. Some times he'd get stuck for mere seconds and most disrespectful words would issue forth from his mouth. Erik had almost finished his piece, it seemed, and was working on the last chord when he suddenly stopped.

She looked at him strangely. Surely it wouldn't take him that long to get the very last note of the song. Usually it's the note that comes to you the easiest.

But all knowledge of what the last note should be was wiped out of Erik's mind and he sure didn't like it.

He threw down his quill, cursing, and was about to crumble up the paper when Loralee spoke.

"Try writing. . . try writing. . . uh. . ."

Erik's flaming eyes of annoyance and failure swerved dangerously into hers. She felt her mouth go dry. Loralee had no knowledge of the piano except a few classes when she was younger, and was only doing this, it seemed, to embarrass herself more. The truth was, Loralee had no idea what note should be the last one.

"Try writing _what_, my dear?" Erik asked, his voice icy and rather loud.

"Um. . . Try writing a C."

The note C seemed easy and simple enough, and if it were low, maybe it would compliment Erik's low chord next to the end.

"And make it low," she added hastily, waiting for Erik's action.

He simply stared at her and she stared back, frightened at what Erik's reaction was to be. It most likely would be a cold laugh or maybe even a slap to the face for being so utterly senseless and foolish to say such a horrid ending note.

Instead, Erik blinked, as if he just saw Loralee transform into a unicorn.

"Is. . . is that alright for the finish?" Loralee asked cautiously.

"A C?" Erik's eyes widdened. "A C! Damn me for not thinking of that ending!"

He played the measure and at the end, added her C, and too Loralee's slight horror, it sounded perfect, almost as if a genius had made it.

Erik laughed and wrote down the last note then swept Loralee up into a tight and friendly hug. Loralee only looked dumb founded and turned even more dumb founded when Erik hugged her.

"Why, Mademoiselle Donoghue, I didn't know you were a musician!"

He pulled back and looked at her, calming down and going back into his normal Erik mode. He noticed the shocked expression on Loralee's face and looked her in the eyes.

"What's wrong, Loralee?"

She blinked and then shook her head, getting out of her thoughts.

"Nothing, it's just. . . it's just that I absolutely made up that last note. I have no clue about how to play music."

"Really?" Erik asked, looking disappointed. She looked at him and smiled sadly.

"I'm afriad I don't know the difference between a violin and a viola.."

Erik just looked at her for a few seconds and then sighed, turning back to his now finished song.

"Still, you took part in making this piece, so. . ."

He signed the top upper right hand corner: "Written by Erik and Loralee Donoghue."

"Erik. . ?" she said, in the "are you nuts?" tone of voice.

"Well, it's true. You helped write it so therefore you have to take credit in the piece. Now, do you have any idea of what the name should be?"

"Play it and I'll think of one."

So off Erik went, playing his - more like their - piece. To Loralee's disbelieve, it was so beautiful and moving, she almost cried. She had no place as a writer for this piece. It was too wonderful to have her name on it. Erik's, though, fit perfectly, the four letters boasting with pure genius. The music and him seemed to fit like a hand in a glove.

She barely noticed when he finished with her coincidental C.

"So, any ideas?" Erik asked after a while. She could tell he also had the feeling of euphoria from the song.

"Yes. How about Twilight Magic?"

"Perfect," Erik said, and scratched the title down gracefully onto the top of the page before playing it again, but this time with even more feeling, making Loralee float away into the peaceful stage of sleep.


	17. Longings for a Lost Love

**Nothing big to explain to people except that the next chapter will get a bit more exciting. Enjoy anyway and review! **

**Ethalas Tuath'an: Yes, now Meg does know. The part with the "coincidental C" was a bit useless, I admit, but it just came to me as an idea so I put it down. Thanks for the review!**

**Carkeys: Hope this chapter came up soon enough for you. Thanks for the encouragement! **

**PhantomLover05: I'm glad it almost did make you cry. Thanks also for reviewing!**

Chapter Seventeen: Longings for a Lost Love

Erik was quite surprised and rather startled when suddenly a warm weight softly plopped onto his shoulder. It jarred his playing a little because the sudden weight shifted his hands on the keys and made him jump slightly. He looked at what it was.

Turning his head only resulted in something black and shiny tickling his nose, almost making him sneeze. He jerked his head back quickly and looked down onto Loralee's newly sleeping form.

He studied her closely as his hands continued to play.

She looked so peaceful while sleeping. He knew one touch of the hand without his music would make her placid dreams turn into hellish turmoil of memories with Hector. But while he played his music and left her alone, her face was relaxed with a slight smile and gently closed eye lids.

After he finished the song, he looked at the tall pipes of the organ. They seemed to turn less inviting to him and he suddenly had the urge to do something else.

Looking around the room, he searched for something that wouldn't disturb Loralee's sleep. Instead of waking her up as Erik shifted his shoulders, she snuggled her head deeper into the crook of his neck making him tense up. Erik loosened only when he was sure she was asleep.

Finally his eyes landed on the water colors that Loralee had given him. He stood up suddenly, forgetting Loralee was resting on his shoulder, and panicked when he saw what he did. Quick as a flash, he turned around and caught Loralee just before she hit the organ bench.

Erik was going to have to start working on his skills of being a friend. Soon.

He walked over and placed her on a chair he had, hoping it would be comfortable enough for her sleep in. Then, making sure nothing would disturb her, he carefully went down to the desk with the water colors.

Water colors had never been his favorite choice of drawing utensils for art. Usually he like charcoal or colored pastels, but he had done a few paintings in water colors to knew he at least enjoyed them.

Taking out a brush, he dipped it into the black paint and started to unconsciously draw something on the paper with out really looking. His mind was off some where else in the clouds.

It had been nearly three years since that horrible night. He could still feel her lips on his and the taste of her tears in his mouth. He could still remember the sense of understanding as she slowly separated and looked him nervously into the eye; the dreaded look that made him send her away with the Vicomte. He still remembered letting the two shaken prisoners out of his grip and vowing when his beloved angel went out of sight that he would never, ever play music again.

But what now?

Erik focused on the drawing in front of him and saw the left side of Christine's face was taking shape. He smiled at her likeliness which was starting to smile lovingly up at him. Soon he was off in his thoughts, though, oblivious to what his paint brush was doing on the paper.

Almost two years ago he remembered his first interaction with Loralee in the chapel, and as soon as she fainted he thought he knew she would never be worth his time.

But those nights he saw her dancing in the vacant practice room he knew she had her true soul hidden. Erik knew about her hidden scars and dancing - her real life - but still had no idea that she would ever talk to him as a equal person.

It was only until Loralee pledged her service to him in his Box that he sensed a friendship with her.

Suddenly, Erik remembered the night in the chapel. That feeling he had gotten when they stared into each others eyes - that bond - could it really be. . . a true friendship?

Loralee sure thought so.

He slightly smiled unconsciously at the memory of her giving Erik permission to be her friend. Looking back, Erik realized how stupid he must have sounded, asking for someone's permission to be a friend. Usually it just happened, but Erik had never had experiance before.

The only worry on his mind of Loralee being his friend was his face.

No doubt, she'd run away first thing when he'd finally show it to her like so many have. If she didn't run away, however, she would still most likely treat him as an animal and make fun of every fiber of his being. He shivered in anger at the very thought and his brush strokes became harder and more harsh.

Christine had once ripped off his mask without permission and saw his horrid deformation. It was then that all hope of her loving him disappeared.

The same thing would happen to Loralee if she ripped it off, friend or not.

He came back to his senses when there was a yelp of fright coming from the chair. Loralee was having another bad dream.

Cursing his face, memories, and Hector (for causing Loralee so much pain), Erik went over to her side.

"Loralee!" he said, his hand coming out to shake her awake. Just as his fingers made contact with her arm, though, her other hand shot out and grasped his wrist in a death lock. Her eyes shot open in fright and she sat up, breathing irregular and fast.

"GET OFF OF ME, HECTOR!" she yelled at Erik who looked at Loralee's terrified face with shock.

Loralee stared at Erik for a few seconds, then blinked, shaking herself out of the dream.

"I'm sorry," she gasped out, letting Erik's hand go and curling up into a tight ball. When her shoulders started to shake, Erik knew she was crying. Not sure what to do in a situation like this, he just rubbed her back awkwardly while shushing her softly with sweet words.

After doing what seemed a fair amount of calming, Erik got away from her as quickly as possible. In truth, he just wanted to be away because he was afraid he was going to make a fool of himself while she was in this dreaded state. Instead, he went over to look at what he drew.

As his eyes finally looked upon the whole picture, he nearly toppled off the chair with surprise. Instead of Christine's calm face staring at him lovingly as he wanted the picture to be like, there was two faces combined as one.

Christine's warm and mellow features were on the left, gazing at him as he wished she could, but her nose, her hair, her mouth, and her skin all changed mid way into a girl's face with a small mouth, larger nose, and wavy black hair. Her expression seemed to be happy but in her eyes he captured a strong fear and sadness.

He was looking at Christine and Loralee in one head.

The sight made his head dizzy with surprise and anger and he crumpled the picture up, throwing it as far away from his desk as he could. Erik then buried his head in his hands, wondering what made him draw such a picture, a pointless fear pulsing through his veins.

Loralee couldn't be taking over Christine's place. She couldn't. He wouldn't let her.

Erik rubbed the left side of his forehead, the side unmasked, and looked up into a pair of blue eyes.

"Are you alright?" Loralee asked, eyeing him cautiously. He growled in reply, getting up and turning away from her.

"I should be asking you that question, shouldn't I?" he said as he wandered down to the lakes edge, re-lighting some candles.

"It doesn't matter," she said, getting out of the chair. He looked at her warily as she tested out her feet. After walking a few steps she pronounced herself all better. Erik snorted.

"Of course you're fine," he said sarcastically. "You have bad dreams every second, you sleep all day, and you have a large cut on you that has most likely not fully healed. I'd declare myself perfect if I were you, too."

Loralee just glared at him as he went over to put on his discarded robe. Shrugging it on, he saw Loralee walking away into Christine's room and was glad. He definitely needed some time on his own.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Loralee walked into the room she had been sleeping in the past few days. She looked around. The covers on the bed she slept in were jumbled up and for the first time she noticed the absolute beauty and exquisitness of the swan bed. Loralee fingered the swan's head wondering where in the world Erik got such wonderful furniture such as this bed.

She then went over to a wardrobe to see what was inside. Her mind was telling herself to stop her nosing about before she got into trouble with the short tempered Erik, but Loralee didn't listen to her conscience and instead opened the doors.

The contents of the wardrobe surprised her. She was expecting to see evening suits hung up with long black capes but instead she saw about seven beautiful gowns made of the finest material in the most attractive ways. They were of the highest fashion and made Loralee's jaw drop.

Why in the world would Erik have such awesomely beautiful dresses in his house? Even the whole room was fashioned for a girl, Loralee suddenly noticed with a start.

Christine.

It must have been Christine's room. She is the only girl Erik would do such things for. It must have been so hard for him to have his love suddenly betray him and turn her back on him, Loralee thought. Suddenly, Loralee longed to hold and comfort Erik from his past.

The longing was even strong enough to make her walk over to the door, but Loralee hesitated when she saw Erik.

He was sitting at the organ and obviously annoyed about something. She could see the muscles in his neck twitch and his jaw clench shut, eyes burning yet looking far away at something she new she'd never see. One hand was clenched tightly into a fist and the other was running through his hair over and over again.

He must have either caught sight of her some how or sensed her presence because soon he whipped around to face her, his white mask gleaming dangerously in the candle light.

"What do you want now?" he asked Loralee curtly. She just stared at him, knowing it was rude, but couldn't stop. "And stop starring!" Erik snapped at her, turning his back to her once more.

Loralee snapped out of it and went over to Erik's side, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"This is about Christine, isn't it?" she asked. He tensed and then quick as a bullet, his hand was around her neck and pinning her to the wall much like he had done in Box 5. The only difference was that there was no Madame Giry to save her.

"Never speak her name!" he hissed dangerously at Loralee. "NEVER! Do you hear me?"

Loralee nodded furiously, clawing at his hand uselessly, trying to get free. He wouldn't let her go, though, and she finally just limply hung onto his wrist.

"I. . . can't. . . breathe!" she choked out, looking desperately into his dangerously sparking eyes.

He only tightened his grip on her throat more for a few seconds before realizing what he was doing.

Erik's grip on her neck loosened, and soon he was backing away, fear of his actions on his face. He shook his head, staring at the wall next to Loralee's face and muttering, "No. . . No! What have I done? No!"

Loralee watched him, rubbing her neck gingerly and stepped forward when Erik crouched onto the ground, head in his hands.

"Erik. . ." she said, coming over to him cautiously and slowly putting her arms around him, bringing him into a friendly hug. It shocked her greatly when she saw tears streaming down his face. Erik avoided eye contact and just sat there, limp in her arms.

"I wish I could see her again. . ." he said between sobs. She rubbed his back, her face a mixture of shock and understanding.

"I know Erik," was all Loralee managed to say.

"I wish I never let her go. . . Oh, Christine. . . What have I done, Christine. . . Christine. . ." he whimpered into Loralee's shoulder. "She was all I ever wanted. . . Perfect. . . The voice of an angel, flawless features, an innocent soul. . . Perfect. . . My angel of music. . . But I let her go. . . She didn't love me. . . didn't love me. . . Christine. . ."

Loralee held Erik and comforted him for what seemed hours. Soon she could feel no more wet tears on her shoulder but instead his shuddering breaths as he tried to calm himself. She only let him go when he pulled back, avoiding her eye contact.

"I think you should get some sleep, Erik," Loralee said, noticing the bags under his eyes.

"What? Sleep? No. . . Too useless. . . I think I shall just play. . . Yes, the organ seems inviting."

She watched him helplessly from the ground as he wiped off his tears and sat down at the organ. His pride and strength had seemed to disappear but some of it returned as he placed his fingers above the keys. When he started to play a dreadfully morbid and depressive tune, Loralee thought it best to just leave him alone for the time being.

She went back into the room, now feeling like some one intruding on his most beloved and treasured room, and carefully laid herself on the lush silk sheets, wishing herself to get to sleep as quickly as possible to block out Erik's sorrowful playing.

But sleep never came for Loralee, and for what seemed forever, she just sat on Christine's bed, knees up to her chin, and her arms around her legs.

Erik found her like this when he came to check on her a few hours later.

"I want to go back now," Loralee said weakly, without looking up at Erik.


	18. Monsieur Vincent Badeau

**Okay - the beginning of this chapter I find a bit awkward, but hopefully you'll like the ending better. And I'll just say that the character I'm about to introduce to you is a bit "over dramatic" in ways of love. Don't ask me how he got like that - I just thought it would be fun to have a character like him. Enjoy! **

**Carkeys: Yes, I agree with you. Poor Erik. . . **

**Ethalas Tuath'an: Loralee basically wants to head back because of both things you stated: an unconscious feeling of jealousy and shock from Erik's attempt at her life. And no, Erik does not want to spend the rest of his life brooding over Christine. He just hasn't - how do I put it - fully grasped the concept that Christine has left him for good. Sorry if I've confused you in anyway - I'm kind of confusing myself! Here's Chapter Eighteen! **

Chapter Eighteen: Monsieur Vincent Badeau

_"I want to go back now."_

Erik did admit those words were expected, but he still had a pain in his heart he couldn't hide from them. Loralee was the first person he felt he could trust fully, his first honest to goodness friend, and the first person he spilt out all his feelings of his lost Christine to.

Sighing, he let his shoulders slump a little. She looked up quickly, just enough to catch eyes with him for a fraction of a second.

"I know. . ." he said, voice emotionless.

"How do you know?" she asked, brows knitted together as she finally fully looked up at him. Erik just smirked back.

"Well, it's quite obvious that everybody who comes down here wants out after realizing something about my past."

Loralee shivered. Erik's voice was cold and spoken in a dead humor way which made her pale.

"I don't understand. . ." she murmured to herself but Erik heard.

"Don't understand, do you? Maybe you would if you knew how many people have thrown my trust back at me. My mother treated me as a cruel master would to a animal, Javert beat me and treated me as an exhibition when I was barely a young adult, Giovanni, the man I thought of as a father, betrayed my trust and made me take off my mask, and Christine-"

"Erik, stop!"

Erik stopped mid sentence, breathing in deeply and trying to calm his nerves. While talking he must have taken threatening steps towards Loralee because now she was on the other side of the bed, farthest away from him as possible, tears of fright and pity rolling freely down her cheeks. Erik had his hands on the bed frame and was leaning in, threateningly, as if to strike his prey any second.

Shamed of his harsh and sudden actions to the all together innocent Loralee, Erik dropped his head, eyes closing and fingers gripping tightly to the carved swan's wing that cradled the mattress of Christine's old bed.

A finger on his lips silenced him as he opened his mouth to say an apology and then suddenly Lorlaee's warm arms were around him in an awkward embrace. She was rather tense fearing he might lash out any second, and Erik was tense at the touch of another human being treating him as an equal. After a while, both softened up and he could feel Loralee take a large breathe before speaking softly.

"If I can mend your heart, I will. I just need you trust first."

Erik couldn't quite believe the words she spoke and at the same time, unbeknownst to him, Loralee couldn't believe she just said those words out loud. Her cheeks burned red as she stared wide eyed at the wall behind Erik's head as they hugged, mentally slapping her forehead.

So they stayed in that awkward position of tense comfort for a few minutes, neither daring to move. Erik was too shocked and frankly, too scared, of Loralee's kind actions. Loralee, on the other hand, was terrified she even said such a thing and too embarrassed to pull away and see his reaction.

Neither could remember who pulled back first, or what happened after that. They were too consumed in thoughts, embarrassment, and shock to acknowledge each other properly and Loralee was surprised when she found herself being pushed hastily into her room, five levels up from where she had been just minutes ago.

Turning around to bid Erik good bye and thank you, she came face to face with a mirror. She knew he could be on the other side, still, watching her every move. The thought made chills jitter up and down her back but she still put her hand to the mirror as she said a faint "Thank you," to him, where ever he might be.

On the other side Erik gazed at her, mixed emotions battling inside of him, and he raised his hand to the glass to put his hand over hers. He only let it fall when Loralee walked away to her closet to pick out a dress to wear. Then, with one final look, he went on his way.

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A few weeks had passed, and Loralee reluctantly went back to teach the corps de ballet after much persuasion from Madame Giry. Loralee was frightened to step out of her room and venture forth into the Opera Populaire. She feared Hector was hiding around every corner of the Opera House, ready to pounce and catch his prey. It was amazing to Loralee how such a cold and sinister place such as Erik's house was so warm in comparison to the cheerful and carefree atmosphere of the Opera Populaire.

Erik and Loralee had also gotten back together a few days after their strange incident down in his lair. Their friendship carried on and Erik continued to help Loralee with her new found fear of Hector. Loralee also continued to do Erik's chores outside of the theater while working with the corps de ballet. Madame Giry still came to the practices, but only stayed for a bit, watching Loralee's methods of teaching, before retiring back to her room or going some where else in the theater.

The Opera Populaire performed one Opera in those few weeks and got outstanding reviews and a large amount of praise. Many people had given Loralee flowers for her good work but she only kept a few, throwing the rest out or giving them to other members of the Opera.

It was after the third and final performance of the opera that Loralee met Vincent Badeau.

On her way back to her room, a hand on her arm stopped her quick paces. Loralee whipped around fearfully, afraid to see Hector glaring down at her, but instead her eyes connected with a man who was only about four inches taller than her.

"Excuse me, Mademoiselle, but are you the ballet mistress?"

"Uh, yes," she replied, surprised such a man of wealth was looking for her. She was so shocked she couldn't help but stare at him as if he were mad. The man didn't seem to noticed and only held out his hand to take hers with after giving her a large bundle of flowers.

"Mademoiselle McLay, I am Vincent Badeau, the son of Edward Badeau."

By the way he said his father's name, Loralee sensed that Edward was a very wealthy and respected man that everyone should know and admire. Loralee, though, hadn't the slightest idea who the man was and tried her best to look pleasantly surprised. It took all her will power not to take back her hand as he kissed it gently. There was no other way to put it - she was freaking out at his kindness.

"Would you like something?" Loralee asked him uncertainly.

Vincent chuckled.

"No, I don't need anything except a few minutes of your time."

"What for?" she asked, clearly thinking it was for business matters which made her calm down slightly.

"Just to congratulate you on your wonderful work of putting together the corps de ballet for the past few weeks." He nodded his head to her as if bowing. She couldn't help but blush as this rare flattery but still wanted nothing more to go back into her room and get away from the fool.

"It really is nothing, Monsieur."

"Please, just Vincent."

Loralee looked shocked at his bluntness.

"But I hardly even know you!" she exclaimed, clapping a hand over her mouth once she realized what she said. Vincent chuckled slightly, offering his arm.

"Well, that is true, but I would not mind the least to get to know you, Mademoiselle."

Loralee at this point was too confused to notice his arm waiting for hers to loop around it.

"I'm very sorry, Monsieur, but you are making a terrible mistake. I am a great waste of your time and not worthy of such affection."

Vincent looked mildly taken aback at her response but that feeling immediately went away when Loralee looked frightened at what she said.

"Oh, Monsieur, I'm so terribly sorry. I didn't mean it like that! It's entirely my fault. I'm just. . . Well. . . I'm not. . ."

She couldn't explain or understand anything she was hearing or saying for the past few minutes with the perfect gentleman, Vincent, and finally just gave up all together. Loralee instead went into a hasty curtsy.

"Deepest apologies, Monsieur. Good night," she said hastily before turning around and almost running back into her room, leaving behind a shocked, confused, and humored Vincent, his arm still stupidly out in front of him as he stared at the door she had hurriedly entered.

Once inside and leaning on the door, Loralee breathed deeply, glad to be away from the strange man.

Only after about a minute she noticed on her vanity sat an already lit candle and a long black cloak identical to the one she was wearing. Erik was in her room it seemed.

She looked to the mirror but didn't see him. Something black in the corner of her eye caught her attention, though, and she turned her head to see Erik lying on her bed, examining his cuff with what seemed extreme curiosity.

"Well, at least this time you didn't surprise me greatly, Erik. The candle and cloak were nice messages of your presence, but we still have to work on your manners of entry."

"Entry?" he said, his attention turning to his other cuff, barely even giving heed to the flustered Loralee.

"Yes. Usually one does not come in to find some one lounging on their bed"

"Ah!" he said, suddenly sitting up and looking at her. "You yourself just said you were entering, though, so therefore you are the one with the bad manners."

Loralee opened her mouth to protest but shut it when she saw his point.

"But-"

"No 'buts,' Mademoiselle. You know the Phantom is always correct."

Loralee just stuck her tongue out at him which caused him to chuckle. She went over to hang up her cloak.

"So. . ." she said, sitting down on her vanity chair and looking at Erik who was still on her bed but now sitting up. "What made you come here."

"Just for company, I guess. Is it against laws for friends to see each other or do you just want some free time to swoon over Monsieur Vincent Badeau."

"No, I just-"

Loralee's eyes widened in realization of what Erik had just said.

"I do _not_ want to swoon over Vincent Badeau. The man is so naive it's not even funny."

"Really?" Erik asked, visible eye brow rising slightly in a humored expression.

"Well, okay, it is quite entertaining. . ." she murmured, cheeks sprouting some pink of amusement. When she lifted her eyes to meet Erik's they both burst out laughing at Vincent's stupidity and innocence.

Loralee caught sight of Erik through her laughter and smiled wider when she saw his usually grim face actually laughing. It wasn't completely care free like the rest of the laughing face Loralee had seen in her life, but they were warm enough. Erik's laugh also still contained some of that stiffness which he used in his older laughs, but it was nearly all drowned out by his pure amusement. The sight of him acting as if he were a totally normal human made her happier than ever.

They only stopped laughing when there was a knock on her door. Loralee looked up and was glad she locked the door, but it still startled them both out of their laughter.

"Who is it?" Loralee asked, putting a hand on Erik's arm to stop him from exiting through the mirror. Then, she pulled a long white robe out of her wardrobe.

"Mademoiselle McLay? It's I, Vincent. Is some one with you in there?"

"Uh, no. Of course not. Why would you think such a thing?" Loralee asked, voice almost breaking into giggles when she heard Vincent's rather boyish introduction of himself through her door.

"I couldn't help notice how you were laughing rather hard in there and it seemed as if you had two voices laughing."

"Well, I assure you no one's in here. Why may I ask, were you eavesdropping, Monsieur?" Loralee asked, feeling rather superior to this so called son of Edward Badeau. A few moments of silence went by before he spoke again, clearly embarrassed.

"I am sorry, Mademoiselle, but it is too much for a soul to merely walk away from such a beauty as you."

Loralee had to cover her mouth with her hand so she wouldn't laugh at his failing attempts of flattery. If they were said by someone she liked and spoken in a more appropriate tone of voice Loralee would have enjoyed the flattery greatly, but it seemed that Vincent had a way to make anything romantic sound utterly humorous. Erik watched, clearly amused with the conversation Loralee was having, and sat down on her vanity chair.

"I am flattered," Loralee called back to Vincent, putting an emphasis on 'flattered' to show her obvious lack of enthusiasm. Vincent, being the naive boy he was, didn't notice though.

"I dearly hope you are, Mademoiselle McLay. May I come in to visit you in your room?"


	19. Dinner?

**Thanks for all the reviews! You don't know how much they made me happy! Chapter nineteen to you all and tons of huggles! **

**Ethalas Tuath'an: You never know if Erik is jealous or not because it's never really from his point of view. Personally, and also as the author, Erik is not very jealous because he knows that Loralee does not return the feelings to Vincent. Thanks for being such a devoted reviewer!**

**Angelic Flutist: Oh my! Thanks for all those reviews! It's great to have you back. I loved the "unicorn" part in chapter 16, too. It just kinda came to my mind and I put it down. Hmm, the "hopelessly romantic" does work when you compare Vincent to Raoul. Do you remember what word you were looking for, though? You've really got my curiosity now! Thanks for being such a wonderful reviewer and a bear hug to you too! **

**Erik'sLittleLotte: Ha! Well, I shall give you Vincent for a while to hug and squeeze if you wish. Thanks for the review!**

**HiddenOperaAngel: I'm not really against Christine that much, but I am mad at her for leaving Erik and going with Raoul. The biggest mistake in her life according to me. And yes, Vincent is quite the fop. According to Angelic Flutist, he's more "Helplessly Romantic" though. Thank you so much for all the enthusiasm! **

Chapter Nineteen: Dinner?

Loralee saw Erik get up but motioned him to sit back down. He didn't sit back down but instead stood still watching the door carefully, ready to flee at any moment.

"I'm sorry, Monsieur Badeau, but I am currently indecent," she replied, shrugging on her robe so that it hid her dress. Erik smirked at her excuse.

"Ah, I see I have come at the wrong time. I shall wait out here until you are descent so that we can talk to each other, unembarrassed."

Loralee rolled her eyes at the door, starting to get annoyed at Vincent's boyish stubbornness.

She turned back around into room and almost burst out laughing again when a faint tune reached her ears. It was Vincent humming a lullaby, most likely meant to soothe her as she 'became descent.' It normally would have been incredibly romantic or touching, yet Vincent managed to make it comical with his horrible tune.

When it reached Erik's ears, he just cringed, face contorted into disgust at it's ugliness. The look on his face only made Loralee produce a rather loud and most un-lady like snort of laughter which would have produced fits of giggles if it weren't for Erik's hand soon covering her mouth. Vincent luckily took no notice, though.

"Close your eyes, will you?" she whispered to Erik. He realized that she wanted to change and blushed, embarrassed at what she meant, quickly turned to face a dark corner and covering his eyes with his hands. Erik could hear the faint rustle of cloth behind him as Loralee took of her dress. Suddenly it stopped though and his curiosity of why was answered almost immediately.

"Uh, Erik? Can you unlace my corset?"

Turning around, Erik saw Loralee in only her underdressed and corset. Her milky white skin seemed so smooth in the candle light and her black hair was falling out of it's bun, swishing down into her face. Her face was red with embarrassment at the request, but he realized he must be blushing at the odd situation, too.

"Uh - of course. . ."

Erik went up and as quickly and swiftly as he could, untied her corset. Half way through, Vincent had enough courage to speak up. The very idea that he was bold enough to say what he did to a complete stranger he just met made her jaw drop.

"Um, this does sound absurd of me to think of such a thing, but if you're having trouble with your corset, I'd be willing to undo it. . ."

Erik chuckled softly behind her, his breath catching her ear and making goose bumps crawl up her arm. She suddenly had images of him caressing her back as he sang to her a song of love while she started to fall asleep on his lap. His warm breath was hitting across her face and making her hair flutter in the dream, his lips brushing against her own.

_Snap out of it, Loralee!_ she said to herself, suddenly quite afraid of her mind's image even though it made her feel like she was on cloud nine. The fact that it involved Erik in a seductive manner made her blush crimson and mentally slap her.

Then she remembered Vincent's suggested request of her.

"Monsieur, I am quite capable of my own business, thank you very much. I'm quite good at independent work."

"Humblest apologies, Mademoiselle."

"And please do stop calling me Mademoiselle. Just Lor- I mean Beth will do, please," she said, just catching herself in time. Quiet came once again and Erik spoke up again.

"Independent, eh? Maybe then I shall let you do the rest."

"Oh, quiet," she hissed. "It's just to get him off my bloody back!"

"Language, Loralee. Language," he said before finishing the laces on her corset. He helped slip it off of her body before turning back to the corner.

It took Loralee only a minute to slip into the night gown and pull her white robe over it. She tapped Erik on the shoulder to signal she was finished and ushered him to the side of the room so Vincent wouldn't see him if she opened the door a little.

Taking a deep breath, Loralee went over to the door. Right next to it, she let out an unusually loud yawn, the best one she could do, but Erik saw it was fake and on purpose. It resulted in him lifting an eyebrow in amusement.

Opening the door a crack, Loralee looked out. Vincent turned around to face her, his clean shaven face clearly startled and amazed when he saw the girl he admired before him in a night gown and robe. She made sure she covered up all her scars, though, so that he wouldn't ask any questions.

"I'm sorry, Monsieur Badeau, but my room is hardly fitting to talk in, and I'm growing quite weary to this ought to be short."

She stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind her. Vincent gazed at Loralee, face still in awe. When she cleared her throat, he snapped out of his trance, though, and stood up straight.

Loralee then noticed how handsome Vincent really was. He had light brown hair which was pulled back into a small ponytail. His out fit was of wealth and high class and showed off his well muscled yet well fed body. His dark brown eyes showed his emotions like a crystal ball, though, which Loralee found quite unnerving.

"What would you like to say, Monsieur? It must be important." She couldn't help but feel amused yet slightly guilty of her hold over the naive man even though he was about two years older than her.

"Ah, yes. It is rather important. I was wondering if I may take the pleasure of courting you, Mademoiselle McLay. It would be an honor even Zeus would treasure."

His cheesy lines made her mouth corners flit upwards for a fraction of a second in humor at his desperate attempt to court her. She then turned grave as she looked back to him.

"I. . . I don't know what to say," she said after a while of desperate but useless thinking. The answer she gave was completely true. She didn't want to hurt Vincent's innocent feelings but then again, she didn't very much like the idea of being Vincent's lover. Vincent took her answer as if she were speechless because of joy at his his request. He held up his hand with a cheery grin.

"It's all right, Mademoiselle. I know it is very rare that a man walks up to some one and asks them courtship, but the moment I first saw you and the work you did, I fell for you. I was hoping you were as flattered as you are now."

Loralee almost slapped him to give him some sense, but immediately scolded herself for such horrid thoughts and bit the inside of her lip. She almost yelped with surprise and annoyance when he took her hand and held it in his.

"Please, Mademoiselle McLay. You need not say more. It makes me happy to see you so speechless at my wish."

She was about to tell him he was making a mistake, but was cut off by Vincent himself.

"I shall take you to dinner, then? You could get dressed. I'll go and ready our carriage and then come back in a few minutes to get you," he said, before kissing her hand twice and walking away.

Loralee looked at Vincent's back as he started walking away and then snapped out of her shock. Could he really be that naive? she thought before shouting out.

"Wait!"

Vincent turned to face her.

"Yes, my dear?" he asked as if they had been courting for some time.

"I can't go."

"Why not?" he asked, suddenly sad.

"I. . . I'm too tired," she finished lamely.

"Nonsense!" Vincent laughed out. He waved off the excuse and turned back around to go off again. "Tiredness is not an excuse. This will be a night you'll never forget."

Loralee's jaw dropped and she stormed back into her room none to gracefully, slamming the door behind her.

"Erik, get me out of her!" she said out loud, not caring who heard. She stormed to the mirror and stood in front of it, arms crossed, and glaring at Erik to come over and open it. He just looked back at her, smile on his face. Loralee had spent way too much time around him.

"No, I think I'll help you put back on your corset so then you can go out to dinner with Monsieur Vincent Badeau."

"Pishposh. . ." she muttered, clawing desperately at the mirror frame as if to free herself from the world of reality. A hand on her upper arm lead her away from the mirror and over to the wardrobe.

"Now, pick a dress," he said, evil smile on his face, obviously pleased that his friend was going through such tortures. She glared at him while pointing randomly into the closet.

"That one," she said. His eyes widened when he saw which dress it was.

"You really want that one?" she asked, humor clearly evident in his voice. Loralee, not sure, looked around and came across a dress she had worn while she was a chorus member in a Opera production. It was a gypsy dress with a dark brown corset on the outside, embroidered with golden leaves. It had a wispy and thin skirt of dark purple cloth and a off the shoulder shirt of light pink, roses embroidered on the lace lining. The sleeves went down in puffs to end in gold cuffs at her wrists.

"Um, no. . ." she said, taking the dress from Erik's hands and stuffing it back into the closet.

"Which one then."

"How about, you just shut these doors, walk over to the mirror, open it, and guide your good friend Loralee down to safety from the lunatic and idiotic Vincent."

This did nothing except humor Erik even more.

"Fine then," she said. "If you really wish me torture that much, Erik, I shall wear that dress."

She motioned to a black mourning dress in the far side of the closet complete with a black lace hat and black silk gloves. Erik chuckled and fingered the dress. Loralee stared dismally at the dress, truly hating the idea of ever speaking with Vincent out in the hallway. Erik saw the distressed look on her face in a side long glance and let his fingers fall from her black dress.

"You really hate me for doing this to you, don't you?" he asked her, turning to face her. She looked up, surprised at his sudden understanding.

"Well, I guess so. . ." she said.

"Then I shall grant your wish and take you to my house." Loralee broke out into a smile, a little stunned at the usually stubborn letting her win an argument, but then hugged him shortly before shutting the wardrobe doors.

"Thank you, Erik!" she said.

"I do admit," Erik said mischievously, a smirk slowly creeping onto his face, "that Monsieur Badeau will make quite a show."

Loralee looked at him questioningly.

"We can watch from behind the mirror at his reaction of you not in your room."

Loralee's eyes widened before covering her mouth to stop the giggles from coming out. Understanding, she went over and unlocked her door, opening it to that it would swing open when he knocked. Just as she did so, she could hear his hasty step down the hallway, headed straight towards his doors.

Erik was at the mirror, a hand out stretched to her, welcoming her into the tunnel. She took it and both of them disappeared behind the mirror just as Vincent came up.

"My dear Mademoiselle McLay! The carriage is waiting and we shall go to the finest restaurant in all of Paris."

There was a pause in which Loralee was supposed to say something, but of course, she wasn't there.

"Mademoiselle? Do you like the idea? We could change it if it doesn't suit your tastes."

No answer.

"Please, do say something Mademoiselle. You're frightening me. Mademoiselle? Mademoiselle McLay!"

Vincent then started to knock on the door, afraid of Loralee's wellness. He was about to shout out her name again but at the contact of his fist on the wood, the door swung open inwardly. On the other side of the mirror, Loralee clutched Erik's arm with amusement.

"Mademoiselle? Mademoiselle Beth? Are you there? Where did you go?"

He stepped in warily, looking around the shabby and small room. His eye sight lingered warily on the mirror as if he knew they were watching him from behind it, but his gaze moved on not to long afterwards.

"She must have left. . ." he said, not believing what he saw. "But she-"

His sentence was cut off when he saw a pair of black leather gloves resting on the bed. Loralee was about to scold Erik for being so careless, but from the look on Erik's face, she realized he left them there on purpose.

"You evil man!" she hissed to him. He just smirked down at her.

"Can I have some fun with him?" he asked, like a boy asking for candy. Loralee rolled her eyes.

"As long as you don't harm him," Loralee said, sighing.

Both turned back to see Vincent slowly walk to the gloves.

"What in the world. . ." he muttered to himself. When he got close enough to see they were gloves of a man, he gasped.

"Bloody hell!" he said, reaching out to pick them up.

_"Language, Monsieur Vincent Badeau."_

Loralee heard Erik's voice echoing around from inside the room but looking up, didn't see him talking.

"You have to teach me ventriloquism," she whispered to him quickly before looking back to Vincent.

Vincent had frozen when he heard Erik's cool voice. He looked up, head darting all over the room, a look of panic clear on his face, fingers inches away from Erik's gloves.

"Who are you?"

_"Why, Monsieur, I am ashamed of you. Haven't you ever heard of the Phantom of the Opera?"_

Vincent's eyes widened.

"Where are you. Show yourself Phantom!" he said out loud, regaining more of his courage and standing up straight. Not sure where to look when he talked.

_"I hide in the shadows is all I can tell you. Now, I must ask, what are you doing in Beth McLay's personal living space?"_

"I was going to take her out to dinner. I came back to get her, but she wouldn't reply so I came in."

_"Well, may I give you a piece of advice. Beth McLay wishes you not to call on her and is quite bored of your insufferable naive attitude towards everything."_

"How dare you speak to me like that, Phantom. I am perfectly able to court who I like, and it is quite obvious that the Mademoiselle would like to court me, too."

_"First of all, open up your eyes. You must be blind not to notice her lack of enthusiasm to your courtship. Second of all, you better pay closer attention to her requests. If you remember, she requested that you call her Beth McLay, not Mademoiselle."_

"How. . . What. . . But. . ."

_"Speechless, Monsieur? I'm glad to see you in such a state."_

Loralee was getting cold in the damp tunnel and gave a sharp tug on his sleeve. He looked down at her and she told him to hurry up and get moving.

"I'd ask you, Phantom, not to intrude on my relationship and life with Mademoiselle McLay. She would hate you for bugging me as you do so, now, so halt this ungracious behavior immediately."

_"I rarely take orders, Monsieur Badeau. I'm only stopping now because Beth McLay is asking me to do so. If you'd excuse us now. . ."_

Loralee watched, amused, as Vincent started yelling for the Phantom to come back and explain to him how in the world was Loralee with him. Erik just smiled at him and soon had Vincent running out of the room.

"Come on," Loralee yawned, tugging him down the tunnel. "Let's go home."

He looked at her amazed.

Did she just call his house 'home'? Did she really think his hell was her heaven?

A smile flickered on his face as he followed Loralee through the passageways to his - no - their home.


	20. Brava, My Dear!

**I can't believe I'm already in the Twenties! If I keep posting daily like I have been doing, we should be over pretty soon. It's too sad to think about! I'm pretty sure this chapter has been shorter than the others, so my apologies are sent out! I also had no idea what to name this chapter.**

**Ethalas Tuath'an: Yes, I also find Vincent a source of entertainment! **

**demonmyst: I did want Loralee to slap Vincent, but I have to remember that they're in the nineteenth century and basically just met. Thanks for the review!**

**HiddenOperaAngel: Wow, you make me feel soooo honored! I suppose you'll like this chapter seeing as you want more "fop bashing".**

**PhantomLover05: I'm with you on that! Thanks so much!**

**AngelicFlutist: I know! Ventriloquism is an awesome characteristic to have. I'd die to learn how to do ventriloquism. Yes - I do give you permission to call Vincent a "silly fop." Ah, a list of words for Vincent. Yes, they do all seem to fit except, of course, for "blonde." But I agree - let's just stick with "Hopeless Romantic". Thanks so much for reviewing!**

**WildPixieChild: Thanks so much for the encouragement and review! **

Chapter Twenty: Brava, My Dear!

Erik followed Loralee most of the way to his lair until she forgot the direction, so then Erik took over leading her. Yawns from Loralee were the only sound that punctured the silence besides their soft footsteps. As soon as they got to Erik's house, Loralee flopped down onto a chair where as Erik gracefully slid onto the organ bench.

"Why did you want me to go with Vincent, Erik?" Loralee asked him. From behind, even, she could tell he was at least smirking if not smiling.

"Just for entertainment, I guess."

"Oh, so I'm you're entertainment? Like an object to be used? Wonderful. . ."

Erik looked at her.

"Well, you'd be doing the same thing if a girl as naive as Vincent came to me and asked to court. You'd want me to go and make a fool of myself."

Loralee pondered this for a moment but then shrugged, defeated.

"So I would, so I would. . ."

A yawn issued forth from her mouth right after the sentence and her eyelids fluttered shut for longer than Loralee would have liked.

"Come on, you're tired. I'll wake you up in time for practices tomorrow."

She barely heard and understood what Erik just said because she was already half sleeping. In that drowsy state, Loralee didn't fight when Erik picked her up and carried her to Christine's bed, forgetting everything when her head hit the pillow.

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"Mademoiselle McLay?"

It was practice four days after the encounter with Vincent Badeau. She was just teaching the corps de ballet a rather easy sequence in the last ballet performance of the upcoming opera.

Over the past few days, Erik had visited often to speak as friends would do. Sometimes she would have to go out and get him items he needed for his lair, but most visits were just friendly talks with each other.

Loralee recognized the voice shouting out to her and acknowledged the person without taking her eyes of the dancing corps de ballet.

"Yes, Madame Giry?"

"Someone is here to visit you."

"Who?" Loralee asked, not in the mood to go away from teaching the ballet.

"Monsieur Vincent Badeau."

Loralee turned sharply around to face Madame Giry.

"Are you serious?"

Madame Giry only nodded, surprised at Loralee's annoyed face.

"Tell him that I am teaching and do not wish to be disturbed."

Madame Giry nodded and turned to leave but stopped half way through her turn.

"Do you know him?"

"Unfortunately so. I met him after the Opera four days ago. I hate to say such terrible things, but he's an incredibly naive boy and doesn't take no for an answer."

"What do you mean?" asked Madame Giry, getting interested.

"He asked me to court him and go out to dinner with him, and wouldn't allow me to decline. Monsieur Badeau just has no clue in the world of what is happening around him to other people."

"You didn't tell me you went out to dinner with Monsieur Badeau."

"I didn't because Erik was there all throughout the conversation, and after much debating he took me down to his home to get away from Vincent."

"After much debating?" Madame Giry asked, clearly entertained at the story.

"Yes, because at first Erik almost forced me to go out to dinner with Monsieur Badeau. He only stopped bugging me after I claimed I'd wear my mourning dress to the dinner."

"Well, I shall go and tell this interesting boy that you are busy and do not want to be disturbed."

"Thank you, Madame."

The message that Madame Giry told Vincent didn't seem enough for him, though. There was a short wait before Loralee felt another tap on her shoulder.

"Madame Giry, if he is causing you any more trouble, just tell him to go and mind his own-"

Loralee turned around to face Madame Giry as she spoke, but stopped short when she saw Monsieur Badeau behind her. She finished off the sentence in a voice below a whisper.

". . . business. . ."

"It's an honor to see you, Mademoiselle McLay," he said, bowing to her and taking her hand. Instead of having him kiss her hand, she crossed her arms and looked at him.

"Monsieur Badeau. Didn't I tell you that I am busy and wish not to be disturbed?"

"You did, Mademoiselle, but-"

"Then why are you visiting me?"

"Because the practices should be over."

"They should be what?"

Loralee looked at Monsieur Badeau's pocket watch when he offered it to her and was astounded when she saw the time.

"Bloody hell!" she exclaimed under her breath. Then she said out loud to the corps de ballet, "You can all go now! I'm sorry, I lost track of time. You were all excellent."

They sighed in relieve and immediately went out to get changed. Soon it was just Madame Giry, Vincent, and Loralee standing in the room.

"Madame Giry? Can you do me a favor, please?" Loralee asked.

"Of course."

"Can you get me the sheet on my vanity and bring it to me. You'll know which one I want from the seal."

Madame Giry raised an eyebrow and then nodded.

"Right away."

As soon as Madame Giry went away, Loralee faced Vincent. She noticed how he wasn't that much taller than her and just then she realized how much she liked Erik's tall and lanky frame.

_Wait a second! I'm not supposed to think like that. That's Erik. . ._

Try as she might, she still had to admit she liked Erik's taller body better.

"Mademoiselle McLay, I have come to discuss something of the most important matter with you."

Loralee just looked at him. As she looked up to him, a flash of white caught her attention in Box 5. Her eyes flitted there for a while just to see Erik come forth to show his mask to signal he was hiding in the Box. Loralee simply smiled quickly up at him before turning her attention back to Vincent, glad that he didn't notice her gestures of friendship to Erik.

"The other night when I asked you to dinner, the Phantom spoke to me."

"Did he now?" Loralee asked, raising her eyebrow, eyes looking at Erik for a split second.

"Yes. He did."

"Well, what did he say?"

"He told me not to court you, but I told him to keep his nose out of our business."

"Our business, Monsieur?" Loralee asked. "Since when has their been and 'our'?"

Vincent couldn't help but look a little taken aback.

"Mademoiselle, remember you agreed to court me?"

Loralee couldn't help but say the next few words which came to the utmost truthful conclusion that she had been spending way too much time around Erik.

"I'm sorry, but I don't remember."

Vincent looked like he was thinking hard.

"By any chance do you know the Phantom?" he asked.

"Well, you could say that. We've met before."

Vincent's eyes widened but Loralee remained innocent and calm.

"You. . . you know him?"

"Yes, I do know him."

"Then there's the answer! The Phantom must have done something to take away me from your memory. I should start over again. Mademoiselle McLay, would you like to go to dinner tonight? It's Friday so it wouldn't matter if we stayed out late."

"I'm sorry, Monsieur, but I am busy. I have some chores to do."

"But Mademoiselle-"

"Beth?"

Loralee and Vincent turned to face Madame Giry who was coming back. Loralee went over, took the black rimmed parchment with the red skull seal, and went back over to Vincent after thanking Madame Giry.

"What is that?" Vincent asked, eyeing the paper and red skull with caution.

"Just some items I have to buy for a dear friend."

Vincent looked quite unnerved at the paper, but soon cleared his throat and looked back up to Loralee.

"As I was saying, Mademoiselle, I could take you out to dinner and you can do the chores tomorrow. I'm sure you wouldn't mind that."

"Terribly sorry, Monsieur Badeau, but I really must do it now. My friend expects theses items later today. Good day, then."

She turned to leave.

"Mademoiselle-"

Loralee smiled up to Box 5 quickly before cutting off Vincent.

"Oh, and one last thing, Monsieur Badeau. I believe I told you not to call me Mademoiselle. The Phantom might have slipped in a word, also. . ."

She exited the room, leaving behind a shocked and quite unnerved Vincent Badeau.

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"Brava, my dear!"

Loralee walked out of the room to be greeted by Erik melting out of the shadows and joining her casual romp down the halls in the shadows.

"The interaction was nothing compared to yours."

"I could teach you how to master playing mind tricks on people," he suggested.

"I'm sorry, Erik, but I'm not that evil. Or at least I hope I'm not."

"Now, are you going out to do your chores or have dinner with Monsieur Badeau?"

"How about neither," Loralee said innocently. After a glare from Erik she threw up her hands in mock defeat.

"Fine then! I'll do my chores. See you later!"

Then after giving Erik a quick hug, Loralee put on her black cloak and went out into the public, fitting on her blonde wig.

Erik watched her go, just now marveling at her. How could one who's encountered so much in their life feel safe with just a wig?

Well that's an easy one, he thought, touching his own wig and mask. With a final smile towards Loralee's receding figure, he disappeared down another corridor and into the shadows.

Unbeknownst to both, Vincent Badeau had watched their whole conversation with a shocked and frightened demeanor.


	21. Why Me?

**Remember how I said that chapter fifteen was the middle of the story - meaning that there are thirty chapters not including the epilogue? Well, I just figured out that I accidentally skipped "Chapter Twenty One" and called this chapter "Chapter Twenty Two". So I guess there will now be only twenty nine chapters (not including the epilogue). Sorry!**

**Ethalas Tuath'an: Hmm, yes, Vincent did turn into a slight threat. Read the rest of my story and you might find out when the confrontation is (hint: not any time soon). **

**PhantomLover05: Lol! Have you got him yet?**

**Carkeys: Simple and encouraging - I love it! Thanks for the review.**

**Phantoms' Lobo: Ha! I feel like I'm making a "I Hate Vincent The Silly Fop Fan club"! I agree with you - Vincent is stupid and very selfish. Thanks so much for the review!**

**Passed Over: First of all, don't worry! I didn't get your review multiple times. Second of all, I feel so honored! That is because I'm the first person you reviewed and all the compliments you made. Third of all, thanks so much for the comments you made on what I should improve - they're really insightful. In this particular story I'm most likely not going to change anything because I've already written the whole thing, but if I write again hopefully they'll help then. Thanks so much for it all! And don't worry - I'm not planning on "pooping out" on the end. The story has about eight more chapters after this one, so I'm not sure if that's good or bad news to you. School is coming up so I might not post a chapter daily then, but I hope I'll keep up my daily schedule. Thanks so much again for the review!**

**AngelicFlutist: Ooh! Cookies! Thank you so much! For that you get another hug! Thanks so much for the review!**

Chapter Twenty One: Why Me?

"Hello Rosemary!"

"Ah! Beth! You're back!"

"Yes, I just came by to say hello."

"Well, it's nice of you to drop by."

Loralee hugged Rosemary Richmond, the ballet shop owner, and then sat down to talk with her.

"So how's George Thompson doing?"

Rosemary blushed and giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Well, we're going out to dinner again tonight."

"Really!"

"Yes! And then the he invited me to the Masquerade."

Loralee's brows knit together.

"Masquerade? I never heard of any Masquerade going on in Paris."

"You haven't!" Rosemary exclaimed, shocked at her friend's minor knowledge. "My dear, I thought you'd be the one to know what's going on at the Opera House."

"Opera House? The Opera Populair is holding the Masquerade?"

"Yes!"

Loralee looked shocked that she hadn't heard about it. Being the ballet mistress, she'd have guessed she'd be informed about such an occasion. Or maybe at least Erik would have heard about it and told her.

"Tell me about it," Loralee said to Rosemary who immediately brightened up, glad to be gossiping about the latest ball to her friend.

"It's next Saturday starting at six. Everyone can come if they have a mask and it's to be held in the great hall." She giggled and got a serious look on her face. "I just hope the Phantom of the Opera doesn't come this time."

"He came to the last one?" Loralee asked, surprised.

"Yes. He came and gave his opera 'Don Juan Triumphant' to the managers, and then took away Christine Daae's engagement ring."

"Oh, he must have come especially for Christine," Loralee said more to herself in understanding. Rosemary nodded.

"But his costume!" she exclaimed. "It was of the Red Death and brought chills to everybody. The skull mask looked so real. . ."

Rosemary trailed off, shivering with memories. Loralee just hugged her friend.

"Thank you for telling me, Rosemary. Now I just have to find someone to go with!"

Rosemary seemed to forget all about the Phantom and instead looked at her friend happily.

"Ah! I should like to hear who you wish to go with! Has anyone asked you?"

"No one has asked me but I have a feeling someone might. . ." Loralee said, not too happy. The face of Vincent immediately lit up her mind, but she almost gagged at the thought of dancing with him.

"Who?" Rosemary asked.

"Monsieur Vincent Badeau."

"You mean Monsieur Edward Badeau's son?"

Loralee only nodded, still having no idea who Vincent's father was.

"My god, Loralee, you are so lucky! The man's wealthy, kind, and such the lady's gentleman. How in the world do you know him."

"He came to ask if I could dine with him after the Opera production four days ago." Rosemary was smiling happily at her friend but Loralee looked at her glumly. "To be frank, I don't like Vincent at all. He's too naive and doesn't take no for an answer."

"You. . . you mean that he. . . he raped you?" Rosemary asked, appalled. Loralee's eyes just widened and she shook her head violently.

"What? No! No, he would never do such a thing! He just doesn't seem to notice my attempt to get away from his boyish self and always presumes I want to go to dinner with him."

"Have you?"

"No," said Loralee, glad she could say such an answer. "Luckily I haven't. I've managed to get out of the past two times he's asked me. In fact, if I wanted to, I could have been out dinning with him right now instead of getting all that stuff," Loralee said, motioning to Erik's items besides her on the floor. Rosemary looked at them, curious.

"What are those for, anyway?"

"They're for a friend of mine who is sick. He sends me out to get them."

"I see."

Just then Meg Giry came into the shop. Rosemary jumped up and embraced Meg.

"Ah, Meg! It's so good to see you! You must know Beth McLay, then."

"Oh, Loralee is that you?"

Loralee stared at her friend with shock and fright.

"Meg-" she started saying but then Meg found out what she just said and covered her mouth with her had, eyes bulging.

"Oh my. . . I honestly didn't mean too! I just. . . It was an accident! Please forgive me!"

Loralee ignored Meg, though, and looked at Rosemary fearfully. Rosemary was staring at Loralee shocked, and then she came forward and knocked down Loralee's hood.

"Meg, you must be mistaken. This is not what Hector Chaffee described to me as the woman he was looking for. Remember? Loralee Donoghue has black hair, not blonde."

Loralee got up and put a hand on Rosemary's shoulder.

"Rosemary, promise me that everything we tell you right now you will not speak of to any other person."

Rosemary just stared at Meg and Loralee's serious faces, gulped, and nodded. Loralee let out a sigh of relief and then turned to Meg.

"And how in the world did you know who I really was?"

"I came in that one dreadful evening and saw your washing basin full of blood. My mother then came in and told me everything. I'm so sorry Loralee."

"Can someone tell me what's going on?" Rosemary said, staring at the two as if they were lunatics. Loralee turned to face her.

"Yes, well, I guess we have to. Rosemary, I am the woman Hector Chaffee is looking for. I wear this wig for protection when I go out into Paris." Loralee demonstrated her point by taking off her wig and showing her black hair tied back in a tight bun. Rosemary gasped, hand covering her mouth.

"Hector came in about three months ago saying that if I ever saw a girl with long black hair, pale skin, blue eyes, and with the name Loralee Donoghue, immediately report her to him. Supposedly you got captured and he's searching secretly for your whereabouts. He doesn't want that many people to know because he doesn't want his noble status to go down."

"Sounds like Hector," Loralee sighed, putting the wig back on. "I was young when we first met. He was the perfect gentleman who won my heart over almost instantly with his proper and kind ways. He asked me to marry him and I agreed, becoming his fiancé. Then things changed. I was out for a walk one night and I saw him with a whore at a bar, terribly drunk. He saw me out in the street and then said I was not acting as the proper fiancé. I should be safe back at home and minding my own business. That night, I guess, he found his love for spirits and alcohol, so he became drunk almost everyday, beating me. It was a week before the wedding when I took my chances and ran away from him. Meg found me and took me in to get a place in the Opera Populaire. I made up the name Beth McLay, and most people know me by that name now."

Rosemary took a while to accept this information and digest it. Then she looked at Loralee with pity which made Loralee rather uncomfortable.

"I will not tell a soul about you, don't worry. We are still friends. I owe you everything for getting me together with George."

Loralee and Meg breathed out in relief. Then Meg turned to Loralee.

"Out of curiosity, Loralee, how many people know about you're real name."

Loralee thought for a while.

"Only the two of you, Madame Giry, Hector, and Er- I mean, my friend."

"You mean the one you do all the chores for?" Rosemary asked, nodding to the boxes. Loralee nodded, glad she wouldn't ask more questions about about her so called sick friend. Meg new better, though, and secretly winked to Loralee.

They talked comfortably to each other for the next few minutes before Loralee finally looked at the time.

"Blimey! Is that the time! I best be off. My friend is expecting me now. Good night!"

And before either could reply, Loralee had pulled up her hood over her wig and picked up the boxes, rushing off to her room.

Entering the Opera Populaire, Loralee first went to put away the wig. Then she hurried to the room but was stopped when she got near to her door.

"Loralee!"

Loralee turned around, startled at who was speaking and who knew her name. She turned to come face to face with Hector.

"Hector, get away from me!" she yelled, running down the hallway. Hector followed her.

"Get back here you wench and act respectfully towards you fiancé."

"Are you too thick to notice, Hector, that I broke off our engagement long ago. I gave you back my ring and ran off."

She turned back around and started off down a different hallway, away from her room. She was stopped by Hector's hand on her arm, swinging her around.

"Listen, little whore, I-"

"I am not a whore!" Loralee hissed to him. His face was red with anger, but anger was also in Loralee, making her unafraid of Hector's threatening form. Hector grabbed her hair and pulled her head up to meet his, his other arm crushing her wrist. She fought to hold onto Erik's supplies, willing them not to drop.

"How dare you speak when-"

"Monsieur!"

Hector and Loralee looked towards the person speaking. Madame Giry was at the end of the hallway, looking threatening, her hand clutching her black pole tightly. Hector reluctantly let go of Loralee who immediately rushed over to Madame Giry.

"I'm sorry, Madame, but she was upsetting me."

"That doesn't mean you can violate her harshly as you have shown multiple times before, Monsieur. If you ever come back here, I swear I shall call the cops on you. Now _get out_!"

Loralee was even chilled by Madame Giry's voice. It was cold as ice and sent off warning signs in both Hector and Loralee's minds. Hector nodded to Madame Giry reluctantly before turning around and storming out of the Opera House.

Madame Giry's grip on her pole lessened when Hector's footsteps disappeared. She turned to Loraee, a worried look on her face.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine. He didn't do much, and luckily I didn't drop Erik's supplies."

Then Madame Giry went pale.

"Loralee, follow me."

Curious, Loralee followed Madame Giry down different hallways. Finally they stopped in front of Christine Daae's old dressing room. Madame Giry looked around for any intruding Opera Populaire members before opening the door and slipping inside, beckoning Loralee to do the same. Once inside Madame Giry, shut the door quickly.

"This is one of the only ways I know how to get to Erik."

"Why didn't you just go to my room and wait a little," asked Loralee, confused. "He was going to come and get these supplies ten minutes ago."

They entered through the mirror before Madame Giry turned to Loralee.

"Erik got a sudden fever. I'm not sure how, but he's burning up and can't get out of his bed. I'm bringing you down so you can give him his supplies and then take care of him."

"Why me?" Loralee asked. The thought of Erik lying on the bed in pain brought tears to her eyes. No man like him deserved such sudden punishment for nothing. She longed to go down besides him and calm and soothe him.

"Isn't it obvious?" Madame Giry said. "You love him."


	22. Fevers and Paintings

**The song Loralee sings in this chapter is "My Immortal" by Evanescence. I know it's a strange song for back in the nineteenth century, but without the instruments I thought it would be a fairly good singing song. I also noticed that one part of this chapter is kind of like a scene from Lord of the Rings: Return of the King, but I only noticed it till now. It's like the scene when Pippin finds Merry after the battle of the Pelennor Fields. Just thought I'd point that out ahead of time!**

**PhantomLover05: Tell me again when you get Hector! **

**Carkeys: Erik enjoys his get well card greatly! **

**HiddenOperaAngel: Horse lessons? I always wanted to horse back ride but I never have. I've been to one of my friends horse lessons and helped take care of her horse, but that's about it. Anyway, here's your answer to what is Loralee going to say (I've been getting a lot of those!).**

**Ethalas Tuath'an: "Oh, yes, trust Mme. Giry to be perfectly blunt." I love it! Hmm, yes, it is kinda strange how Hector is afraid of Madame Giry. But in this story it just works out.**

**Anna Kate Butler: It's okay! I'll give you a hug!**

**Lily: Thanks for the encouragement and here's the next chapter for you!**

**Phantoms' Lobo: Yes, we are going on a Vincent intermission for the time being. And I have a question for you - can I have an Erik-plushie? Please? **

**AngelicFlutist: I never knew that line would effect anyone - you just made me feel extra special by saying that! There will be a Ball Masque in this story so you should look forward to that!**

**RandomPerson: Yeah! Thanks!**

**Fea Witch: Thank you for the review - and don't worry, Christine and Raoul will be involved later in the story.**

**Queen of Reviews: Wow! That's a very enthusiastic review! Thanks so much!**

Chapter Twenty Two: Fevers and Paintings

"I what?" Loralee asked, shocked and slightly appalled at Madame Giry's thoughts. Madame Giry just smiled at her and put a comforting hand on Loralee's arm.

"I knew since the moment I saw you that you'd be a special person in Erik's live. When I found you with his cloak I knew that it was a friendship soon to blossom between the both of you. I tried to make you forget him, afraid something would happen again to Erik like his obsession of Christine. When ever I see you after you're with him, though, you look happier than ever. I also heard from Erik not too long ago that you called his lair your home."

Loralee blushed. Suddenly realization hit her. She had been trying to block away all thoughts of love towards Erik because she thought of him just as a friend. Now looking, she saw Madame Giry was right and that she did have a hidden love Erik.

No man managed to make her as happy as him and his intelligence and beauty of the mind captured her heart with awe. Perhaps it wasn't just the candlelight making her think romantically but perhaps she really was in love with him.

Loralee blushed in the tunnel, lowering her head, and Madame Giry just smiled.

"I. . . I guess you're right Madame. I've just been blind to my own thoughts."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Madame Giry said. "You've had a horrible love life in your past which most likely has left you looking at thoughts of romance with little trust."

_How right she is_, Loralee thought. She was also horrified to think of such thoughts of loving Erik, mostly because her past experiences of love with Hector.

"And if I may be correct," Madame Giry continued, getting Loralee's attention, "Erik has also had such experiences which leave him afraid of the truth."

There was a twinkle in Madame Giry's eyes that Loralee failed to notice.

"Come, we must hurry to help him."

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Madame Giry lead the newly embarrassed Loralee down the hallway. She had left one major detail out of her beliefs to Loralee. Along with seeing that Loralee loved and cared for Erik, Madame Giry knew ever since Erik left the cloak with Loralee and cared for her back when Loralee was new to the Opera Populaire, that Erik would fall in love with her. She hated to see Erik gain such depression from losing Loralee as he did with Christine, so Madame Giry had urged Loralee to forget everything. After months of careful watch over Loralee, she noted how she would work well with Erik, so she dared to make Loralee ballet mistress.

After even a few days, Madame Giry had seen Erik brighten up and become happier than usual with Loralee as his messenger. Madame Giry's favorite encounter with Erik was when he romped into her room as if he were a little kid and told Madame Giry excitedly that he finally had a friend - Loralee. It brought Madame Giry such happiness and pain to see Erik act as if he were ten years old. A genius such as him deserved to have true friends when he was young but instead he was beaten and hated by all. Loralee's friendship to him was like a beggar boy getting a million dollars.

It didn't take much thought or observation to see that the two had feelings for each other, but both Erik and Loralee were blinded by their past experiences, not seeing their own true emotions. She was glad she made Loralee realize that she loved Erik, and unbeknownst to Loralee, she had the same talk with Erik only last night. It would still take some time to persuade Erik that he didn't love Christine any more and that she was gone forever, never to come into the arms of her angel of music again.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Loralee followed Madame Giry all the way down the now familiar tunnels to Erik's home. Their home.

It was strangely quiet, as if all music had died. The silence brought chills zipping up Loralee's spine. Setting down Erik's supplies on a table, she followed Madame Giry over to a separate room she hadn't seen before.

Erik was sleep on a different bed than Christine's. It was less elaborate but had the same lush blankets and pillows as hers. The four posters held no curtains and left it looking barren and plain. There was a chest on one side of the room and different items littering his floor and desks.

Her attention was drawn back to him when she heard a groan issue from his mouth.

Rushing over, Loralee sat down on the bed besides him. She looked down on his tired face, wiping away some sweat that was rolling down his forehead.

His eyes fluttered open at her touch and he looked up into Loralee's worried and caring eyes.

"Loralee. . ." he choked out but Loralee silenced him with a finger on his lips.

"Don't speak. You need your rest. The fever will go away quicker that way."

Madame Giry cleared her throat and Loralee looked up at her.

"I'm sorry, Loralee, but I have to be going. Meg will be expecting me soon. I'll leave him to your company."

They said their good byes and soon Loralee's attention was back to Erik. She found some towels and soaked them in cold water, laying them on his forehead. Then she found some medicine and made him drink it which he did reluctantly.

"Are you going to leave me?" Erik asked Loralee. She knew Erik would think that anybody who'd be kind to him would soon leave him in a state of grief, or never help him through a fever, but she just smiled at him.

"No, I'm going to stay and take care of you. Go to sleep."

She leaned down and kissed his unmasked cheek before pulling the covers up to his chin. He stared at her, amazed she would kiss him even on the cheek willingly, before closing his eyes.

Just then, a song seemed to take over her heart and before she could stop herself, she was singing a song she learned in her childhood at Ireland.

_I'm so tired of being here_

_Suppressed by all my childish fears_

_And if you have to leave_

_I wish that you would just leave_

_'Cause your presence still lingers here_

_And it won't leave me alone_

_These wounds won't seem to heal_

_This pain is just too real_

_There's just too much that time cannot erase_

_When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears_

_When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears_

_And I held your hand through all of these years_

_But you still have_

_All of me_

_You used to captivate me_

_By your resonating mind_

_Now I'm bound by the life you left behind_

_Your face it haunts_

_My once pleasant dreams_

_Your voice it chased away_

_All the sanity in me_

_These wounds won't seem to heal_

_This pain is just too real_

_There's just too much that time cannot erase_

_When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears_

_When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears_

_And I held your hand through all of these years_

_But you still have_

_All of me_

_I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone_

_But though you're still with me_

_I've been alone all along_

_When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears_

_When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears_

_And I held your hand through all of these years_

_But you still have_

_All of me_

By the time Loralee finished the song, Erik's breathing was soft and steady, his face peaceful and body still in sleep. She replaced the cloth with a new and colder one before bringing a chair over to Erik's bedside. She sat in it, and then brought over a book from a bookshelf he had in his room.

The book was Beauty and the Beast, a classic tale she loved when she was little. Her father used to read it to her, teaching her the lesson that it doesn't matter about the person's appearance, but rather their soul and spirit counts.

As she remembered him speaking those words to her in the dim candle light of night, Loralee looked over, gazing freely upon Erik.

The mask was said to hide horrors too disgusting and revolting to even think about which Erik was born with. It would be so easy right now just to slip her fingers underneath the mask and pull it off while he's asleep. Loralee could see what everyone is screaming and shivering about and test herself with her father's advise.

But no. She respected Erik and wanted him to trust her so she held her hand, and instead got herself interested with the book. It wasn't the same as when she was younger with her father reading it to her, but in a way better and more unique because she was actually living it out in a way. Erik claimed himself a monster behind his mask and Loralee only just found out she loved him when he was sick which made her feel like she was Belle in the story.

Loralee was on chapter three when she replaced cloth on Erik's head again. She continued reading but soon the words swirled in front of eyes, her sight getting blurry with sleep. Loralee tried to stay awake so she could care for Erik, but soon sleep gripped her tightly and she fell into a deep slumber.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

The next morning, luckily Saturday morning, Loralee woke up to a groan.

Her eyes fluttered open to see the top of a cave and feel a large cramp in the back of her neck. She sat forward, rubbing her neck and noticed the book had fallen while she slept in the chair. She picked it up and was about to put it on the bedside table when she saw Erik sitting up in the bed, looking at her.

She yelped with surprise, dropping the book again, but not picking it up this time.

"You're awake, and. . . and how did sit up?"

Erik shrugged and then stayed still as Loralee put a hand on his forehead.

"Well, that's done. It was surprisingly short. Only a night long!"

Erik leaned his head back against the pillows Loralee propped up behind his head.

"My head still feels like a boulder," he grumbled, rubbing it slowly.

"Do you want something to kill the pain?"

"Yes, that would be nice. Let's see. . . There's a green bottle on the table by all my artwork. That would do the trick."

Loralee went off to find it.

His artwork was easy enough to find. Almost two tables were littered with papers and sculptures, paints and charcoals. Most of them were outlines of the up coming or older Operas, but some of them were Christine, peering up at Loralee with loving eyes. She sighed when she saw them, knowing Erik still loved Christine even though there was no way she was going to love him in return. It hurt Loralee to think of it.

She went over to get the green bottle that she had just spotted, when something quite familiar smiled up at her out of the corner of her eyes. Looking over, Loralee saw a familiar likeness smiling up at her, the water colors he used to paint it with lying besides the painting.

They were her water colors and her face!

Loralee looked at the picture closely. It was almost exactly as her face is when she looked at it in a mirror, and it had almost no flaws. How could he have gotten such a good painting done without out her posing for him?

_Genius indeed, _Loralee thought as she ripped her eyes away from the picture and instead to the bottle. Getting it, she went back into Erik's room, casting one last glance to her picture before going in.

Just then she noticed how disheveled Erik looked. His hair was mussed up from sleeping and locks of it hung in front of his eyes. His usually crisp white shirt was wrinkled and partially undone, showing off his lean muscled chest and sparse dark hairs. He still had his white mask on, though, and was even starting to hum a tune.

"So even though you have a pounding pain in your head, just had a fever, and must be parched, you still hum?"

"I can't give up my music," he said simply, shrugging gracefully.

"Is this the bottle?" Loralee asked, holding it up when she was next to him.

"Yes. A swig should do."

She then gave it to him and he took a little swig. Taking it back, Loralee put it on his bedside table and sat down next to him on the bed.

"Erik?"

"Yes, Loralee?"

"Did you know that they're holding a Masquerade next Saturday?"

Erik stiffened, his eyes growing rather cold.

"Yes, Madame Giry told me," he forced out.

"Aren't you excited?" Loralee asked. Erik looked at her.

"I would be if Christine wouldn't be attending."


	23. Story Time

**Nothing special to say. . .**

**PhantomLover05: Hmm. . . I do seem to have a talent for messing things up, don't I? And Hector in the hands of Erik? That should be interesting! **

**HiddenOperaAngel: Oh yes! The dreaded Christine! Not to fear, she won't ruin the whole entire story. **

**Phantoms' Lobo: Yeah! I get an Erik-plushie! Hmm, it's already more hugs than imaginable and has yet to receive more. Thanks for it! I don't think staring at the computer screen will make my story any longer, but it never hurts to try. And don't worry - I love weird typing, too!**

**AngelicFlutist: Christine is now "that little traitor"? Well, I guess it does fit perfectly! Read on and your questions will be answered!**

**LittleMollysheart: Hope this chapter is soon enough! Thanks for the review! **

**Carkeys: It would be appreciated by me also if Erik got more "get well cards", but not to fear - this chapter should cheer you up!**

**Ethalas Tuath'an: As for why Erik's afraid of attending the masquerade, you got all the points down. For your other question (is Erik is going with Loralee?) you'll just have to read this chapter! **

Chapter Twenty Three: Story Time

Loralee froze.

She forgot about Christine. No doubt the Vicomte de Changy would be attending with his newly wed wife. Erik would be in pain at the sight of them and long for Christine once more, only to get hurt again.

Loralee looked back at him, her hand coming up to cover his.

"You should go. Face your fears and over come your obsession."

Erik just glared at her and she shut her mouth, looking away.

"It was just a suggestion. . ." she mumbled, embarrassed.

Silence stretched out between the two until Erik sighed.

"No, you're right. I should go and over come my obsession, if that's what you call it."

Loralee smiled at him.

"That's great!" she said, squeezing his hand tightly.

"I just have one question," Erik said, looking at her. "Has Vincent Badeau asked you to the ball yet?"

"Surprisingly and luckily no," she said, an amused smile on her face. "I'd better find someone before he asks me, though."

"I could take you," Erik said. Loralee looked at him, shocked, and embarrassed. A blush crawled into her cheeks as she smiled at him.

"I'd like that," she said, biting back a giggle. She didn't want Erik to think she wanted to go with him, because that would help give away her secret love of him.

"Good," he said. "I'll need someone there who can help keep me calm."

"What should I call you? I'm sure all the guests would be suspicious if I came with the Phantom of the Opera to the Masquerade."

"Well you can call me Erik. . . uh. . ."

"How about Erik Belmont?"

"It will do. I will be an architect traveling here from Italy."

"Oh, nice job! Much better than a ballet mistress."

"Or a ghost," Erik mumbled, rubbing his neck, a faint smile on his lips.

"I haven't decided what to wear yet. Should we go matching or in different costumes?" Loralee said, the girlish giddiness coming over her when she started talking about clothes.

"What ever you want to go as. I'm not sure what I'm going to be anyway. I'll search for a costume later today."

"Oh no you don't," Loralee said, as he tried to get out of the bed. She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him down onto the bed. While doing so, Loralee lost her balance and toppled over onto him, arms still on his shoulders and face buried in his shoulder.

At first, she was too stunned to move. The smell of him filled her body with the same mystery and romantic feeling the cloak gave her, making her mind spin. She loved the feel of her face on his shoulder and the way her body fit against his.

Her second thought were how terribly funny she must look, legs stuck up at weird angles and hair scattered all over his face. This produced a giggle out of her mouth and into his shoulder.

Erik felt her shaking with laughter and soon he started laughing along with her. Loralee, even being the ballet mistress, could be extremely clumsy at times and end up in weird positions. Right now she lay in a jumble on top of him. At first, his breath was taken away. Not by the impact of her on his chest, but rather the feel of her body lying across his. Her hair tickled his face lightly and he could feel her smile against his shoulder.

Reluctantly, Loralee got back up. She didn't want to leave Erik's warm body or his throaty laughter rumbling through her body. Sitting back at the edge of the bed, she calmed herself and straightened out her dress and hair.

"Do you want anything to eat?" she asked him. Erik just shook his head no. Loralee then thought about how she never saw him eat and how he's almost never asked for food. "Do you even eat?" she asked him.

"Rarely. I don't find it necessary."

"Food is good for you, Erik. You need it to live."

Erik shrugged. "Well, it makes sense because I'm a ghost."

Loralee rolled her eyes, getting up.

"You're a man, and you know it," she said to him, looking him in the eye as she did. He just smiled at her.

"So, since I can't get my costume today, can I play my organ?"

"You need to rest. Something that takes little physical strength is okay like reading or drawing, but organ is most likely to strenuous."

Erik looked disgruntled and just laid back down in the bed.

"There's nothing good to do then."

Loralee just produced an un-lady like snort at his comment.

"Of course there's something you can do, you just don't want to do it. Maybe you should just sleep."

"Sleep is another thing I find unnecessary."

"Do I have to became your nanny and make sure you eat and sleep then?" she asked him in a joking tone. He smiled at her as if saying yes, but only got a smack from pillow on his head from Loralee in reply.

"Fine then. If you're going to be so stubborn, I'll just sit back down and read some more."

Loralee fell down into the chair, picking up Beauty and the Beast.

"What book is that?" Erik asked.

"Beauty and the Beast. My favorite. My father used to always read it to me when I was a little kid and when I lived in Ireland. He'd teach me the lesson every night to not judge a person by their looks, but rather by their souls and spirits. That, according to Madame Giry, was one reason why I was made your messenger because frankly, I don't care what's behind your mask."

"Good luck saying that if you see what's behind the mask. This face has killed people I've loved before or lead them down the path of a cursed life."

"I promise you that if I ever see your true face, I will never run away," Loralee said to him, looking him straight in the eye so he knew she was telling the truth. Erik looked quite shocked and only nodded his head, uncertain of what to do.

"Now, I think I'll read," Loralee said, opening up to the page she left off on. She had read about a paragraph until Erik spoke up again.

"Read to me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Read the book to me. It will be fun," Erik said, gesturing to the book.

"Okay. . ." Loralee said, a little embarrassed by the request. She started reading from the beginning of the chapter in the most entertaining voice she could muster. It seemed to please Erik who had laid back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling, a look of longing in his eyes. She read until Erik slowly drifted off into a sleep he needed greatly.

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"How is he?" Madame Giry asked Loralee the next day when she finally came up from Erik's lair.

"Erik's fine. He broke the fever over night, but I forced him to rest for the past day. The only thing he's feeling right now is disgruntled, and it takes all my strength to keep him in bed."

"I would never be able to convince him to stay in bed. The man's as stubborn as an ox."

"Yes. I swear he's going to rip my head off the second I say he can get up. Reading to him does help him calm down and keeps him entertained."

Madame Giry looked slightly surprised.

"You read to him?"

"Yes. This morning I just finished Beauty and the Beast. It's my favorite novel."

Madame Giry only raised an eyebrow at Loralee, a look of humored understanding on her face as Loralee blushed.

"Well, now that you're here, I'd like to tell you that your admirer, Vincent Badeau, dropped by twice, once yesterday and once this morning, looking for you. He said he'll come back this afternoon and I think you should talk to him."

"Why? It's only going to be do you want to dine or go to the masquerade with me, both which I'd decline."

"Well, you know that the first man who asks you to the Masquerade you have to go with," Madame Giry stated, casting a sideways glance at Loralee who looked extremely happy about something. "You'd better find someone to go with if you don't want to go with Monsieur Badeau."

"Oh, not to fear Madame. I'm already going with someone he fears."

Madame Giry raised an eyebrow.

"And who might that be?" she asked.

"The Phantom of the Opera."

"You're going with Erik?" Madame Giry exclaimed, turning to Loralee. "I'd thought he'd never go to such a ball with Christine in it."

"Yes, well, at first he wouldn't go because of her. I suggested that he go just to conquer his obsession of her and he finally agreed, but only if I were his date. So Beth McLay and Erik Belmont are going together to the masquerade ball."

"Oh, Loralee, that's great!"

They hugged each other and Meg found them in their embrace.

"Mother, Loralee? What put you in such a fine mood?"

"Loralee is going with Erik to the ball," Madame Giry said. "You must not tell a soul. If someone inquires, say that Mademoiselle McLay is attending the ball with Monsieur Erik Belmont."

Meg smiled at Loralee and they looped arms, traveling down the corridor to Madame Giry's room.

"Have you thought of a costume yet?" Meg asked excitedly.

"No, I haven't," Loralee replied, her girlish excitement about the costume also bubbling up.

"Oh! We can go shopping together! I know the best place with all the best costumes and good prices."

"I could go today!" Loralee said, giggling slightly with Meg.

"Can we go, maman?" Meg asked, looking over her shoulder at the smiling Madame Giry.

"I suppose so. Loralee will just have to inform Erik before she leaves. He can get quite inpatient."

"Not to fear, Madame," Loralee said. "I was going to let him stop resting this afternoon, so he should be happy."

"How about you do that now," Madame Giry suggested. Loralee smiled and then glanced at Meg.

"Can Meg come? I'm pretty sure I can keep him calm in front of her."

"Only you could, I suppose," Madame Giry said. She hesitated a bit but then nodded her consent that Meg could come. Meg looked excited and frightened at the same time. Of course, that's what most people would normally look like if they were going to meet the Phantom of the Opera. Meg was calmer than many others would be, though, because she had a friend who knew him going with her and her mother was well acquainted with him.

"Come on Meg, let's go. I can just see him sneaking out of his bed now to play the organ."

Meg's nose scrunched up at the funny picture she had of a ghost getting out of a bed and sitting down at an organ in a cave. Then she laughed, following Loralee who was following Madame Giry to Christine's dressing room.

Meg and Loralee slipped in through the mirror which Madame Giry opened for them. Meg looked around in awe and fear, calming down slightly when Loralee squeezed her hand.

"Ask Erik how to open the mirror to your room on your way back up," Madame Giry said to them both before closing the mirror and exiting the room.

Loralee heard Meg gasp besides her as she looked out into Christine's dressing room through the mirror.

"He can see through almost every wall mirror in this Opera House," Loralee informed her. "The one in my room is also a secret passageway which is how he gets to me."

Loralee lead her friend down the five levels until they got to the lake. Meg looked at the gondola.

"I don't know how to swim. What if the boat tips over? Can you use that thing?"

"I can't use it. Every time I've come down here, Erik usually rows across for me, but don't worry. There's another passage way around the lake that we can crawl through."

She lead Meg over to the hidden door and through the passage way. It was no surprise when Meg let out an audible gasp when they entered Erik's lair. Most candles had gone out and only a few left the room in a golden hue, the organ standing tall and threatening in the center of the room. After lighting a few candles, she told Meg to stay where she was and not touch a thing before hurrying into Erik's room.

"Erik?"

A groan from his bed was the answer.

"Erik, I've come here to dub thee free of the bed."

"Finally!" Erik said, jumping up from the bed and slipping on his socks and shoes. He was about to exit the room, fingers already itching for the organ but Loralee held him back.

"Before you go out, you have to at least make yourself more presentable." Erik looked at her quizzically. "I brought Meg Giry along. Don't worry, she knows about my real identity and my connection to you. And she's sworn to her mother and I that she won't tell a soul."

"I never told you that you could invite random people down to my lair."

"Remember, I said it was also my home?" Loralee smirked at him and handed him his robe he had discarded on the floor before he became sick.

"This will have to do for now. And fix that hair of yours."

Erik tried to look up at his hair as he shrugged on his robe. He combed his fingers through it slightly before storming through the door and out towards the organ.


	24. Costumes and Conflicts

**I'm sooooo sorry this is going up so late! I was busy all day and wasn't able to post any time. I hope you'll all forgive me and sorry for the cliffie in this chapter. **

**Also, for this chapter you have to remember that Hector is in fact a rich gypsy man. I won't say any more, though. Enjoy!**

**PhantomLover05: Yes, I think I see your same vision of Erik jumping out of bed for it also gave myself a good laugh!**

**Phantoms' Lobo: Well, I'm glad you finally found the chapter! OooOoh! Cookies! Thank you sooooo much! **

**LittleMollysheart: Here's the next chapter for you!**

**Ethalas Tuath'an: In this chapter you should find out about the costumes so read on! And your review was fine even if it is rushed - great as usual!**

**AngelicFlutist: Ha! Erik as another disease? Well, too bad I can't think of another. The Red Death would have been cool, but as you pointed out, it would have been too obvious. **

**Carkeys: Yeah! Here's the update!**

Chapter Twenty Four: Costumes and Conflicts

Loralee followed Erik closely out of his bed room door, and was amused at Erik's surprise when Meg attempted not to stare at the infamous Phantom of the Opera and instead curtsied to him and gave him her greetings. Erik only mumbled a faint "Hello" before brushing past her to his organ.

Meg was surprised at the sight she saw. The Phantom was a real man and not a ghost, and by God did he have a wonderful home! Sure, he didn't have the nicest manners and was a murderer, but he seemed nice enough to her. Loralee came up to Meg.

"He loves his music more than life itself. He's a genius. . . at times," she added, looking up at Erik, a smile on her lips.

"I heard that!" Erik said, fingers hovering over the starting keys before pressing down and bringing out music of relief and rejuvenation. Meg wondered at the awesome power of the music, and Loralee smiled, happy to see Erik back to normal. She told Meg to not cause any trouble before going up to stand besides Erik.

"Yes?" he asked Loralee without looking up from his fingers.

"I just would like to say that Meg and I are going out for our costumes today."

"Okay," he said faintly, clearly not caring. She was hoping that he'd come along with them, but Erik was clearly too involved with his music.

"Also, can you teach me how to get down to your lair through my room because supposedly Vincent is coming back this afternoon and I want an escape route just in case."

Erik threw back his head, laughing, happier than normal since he was now able to be out of bed and back at his organ. His fingers danced lightly over the keys in a sweet caressing manner.

"I suppose I should tell you."

He told her where the secret switch was on both sides of the mirror so she'd be able to come and go any time Loralee pleased.

"Don't be surprised if I come running into your arms later today," Loralee said, squeezing him on the shoulder quickly before turning back to Meg.

Meg had been shocked beyond believe when she heard the Phantom let out a true laugh. The only time she heard him laugh, his laugh had been menacing and deadly sending chills down her spin. The laugh he just did in response to something Loralee said made Meg want to join in with fits of giggles for no apparent reason.

Meg went over to look at some sculptures he did while Loralee and Erik talked about something rather serious. She was just about to examine a picture he drew of an Opera scene when Loralee tugged on Meg's arm.

"Come on, we can go and shop now."

"Do you know the way out?" Meg asked, remembering her mother's words.

"Yes, Erik told me."

Both hurried back up to the ground level. After Loralee donned her blonde wig, the Phantom's black cloak, and a purse of money, she followed Meg out into Paris, ready to go hunting for her Masquerade dress.

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Erik sat at his organ, fingers weaving out a tune from the keys. It was amazing how only a few days without the organ could leave him with such a longing and thirst for it's music. For the past hour he had quenched his thirst by playing more exuberantly than ever before. It was if his fingers were on fire or possessed by some ethereal spirit as they danced over the keys making beautiful music.

His thoughts drifted to Loralee. Erik imagined her picking out a costume of green velvet with silver stitching on the hems. She was giggling in the stores and pondering what he'd wear.

What was he going to wear?

Well, the Red Death costume he already used and he'd want something more normal because he was going to act as if he were a normal person for once. Perhaps something just dark and menacing.

He got up, finger feeling like they'd fall of any second from all the playing, and went to get dressed. After slipping on his crisp black suit and black cape, he went out through the Rue Scribe gate and into the city. It was the first time he'd ever been out in public during the afternoon but he figured most people would be inside shops or homes eating, so it was safe enough to travel about with a dark hood and quick strides.

He took as many back alley routes as he could and stayed in all the shadows until Erik found and went into the costume shop he presumed Meg and Loralee would be in. Sure enough, he could see them through the window of the shop, talking and looking through the dresses. The cashier was not behind the counter as he entered which made his way over to Loralee much easier.

He came up behind Loralee silently, but Meg noticed him first.

"Hello there!" Meg exclaimed, smiling up at him.

"What?" Loralee said, confused, she turned around to see what her friend was smiling at. A large figure with it's hood over it's blackened face loomed over her making her yelp with surprise and leap back into Meg who almost toppled over into a rack of dresses.

"Erik! You idiot! Didn't we already have this conversation about proper entries?"

Erik only chuckled and looked at the dress Loralee was holding.

"You're not going to wear that, are you?" he asked, horrified at the ugliest yellow dress he had ever seen in her hands.

"Of course not! Meg was just daring me to try it on."

Meg grinned. "It would definitely make you resemble a duck."

"Well, save my sanity and don't put it on," Erik said, taking the dress from her and putting it back where it came from.

"What are you doing here?" Loralee asked him. "It's broad day light and you seemed quite happy with your music."

"My fingers were starting to go numb so I decided I'd join you shortly while I look for my suit. Unless, of course, I want to go as the Phantom of the Opera."

Meg giggled and Loralee rolled her eyes.

"That would be too obvious to Christine. The men suits are over on that side of the store," Loralee said, pointing to the far side, but her attention was quickly drawn to a purple dress with gold ribbon sewed on the hems.

"Oh, Meg! This dress would look perfect on you!"

Erik rolled his eyes as the two girls obsessed over the dress and walked over to the men suits. It didn't take him long to find a suitable one. It was a suit made out of a dark red velvet material, appearing black in the shadows but showing the faint red in the lights. The very ruffled shirt worn underneath the black vest was also the dark red and made out of a silky material. There was a black cloak that came with it which was similar to the one he wore normally. The mask was black and it also came with a black cravat.

He took the outfit and went over to Loralee and Meg as they walked over to buy their outfits.

Meg was going to wear the purple one and Loralee had gotten an outfit that surprisingly went with his.

The outfit consisted of a black, off the shoulder, short sleeve dress with a corset (which was the same color as Erik's dark red shirt) worn over it rather than beneath. There was a skirt that also went over the black dress and stopped above the knees, the black of the skirt turning into a glowing orange and ending in the shape of flames, contrasting beautifully on the black dress. Tied around the waist was also a long cascade of black silk that made a trail behind her, but left open in the front. The mask was the same dark red color yet had sparkles all over that shimmered in the faint light.

"Surprisingly we have the same tastes, Mademoiselle Donoghue," Erik said to her, in awe at the beautiful dress she picked. Loralee giggled at Erik's costume.

"This will be entertaining to see on the Phantom. It fits you though." Meg nodded in agreement. Loralee was amazed at how quickly her friend could become comfortable with Erik. She assumed Meg would run away from him, screaming to the whole world her fear of the Phantom. Luckily, Meg didn't and instead stayed and acted as a friend to him.

"Could you do me a favor and purchase this outfit for me, please?" he asked Loralee.

"Of course," she said, taking Erik's outfit and heading towards the counter.

"Once second!" he said, catching Loralee by the arm and handing her a heavily laden pouch of coins.

"That should pay for all the outfits - a token of my gratitude."

Meg and Loralee stared in shock at the amount of money. Loralee was the first to recover, kissing him quickly on the cheek.

"Thank you, Erik. You didn't have to do that."

Erik looked startled at the fact that Loralee had kissed him, but quickly snapped out of his trance when Meg said her thanks, also. He nodded to them and then shooed Loralee off to the counter to buy the outfits, smiling and secretly touching his cheek which moments ago had Loralee's soft lips upon it.

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On the way back, Erik followed behind the two laughing girls, their arms linked together. He kept to the shadows, but stayed close to them at all times. Both were talking happily about silly accidents that Carlotta had made and some of them even humored Erik.

They were almost at the Opera House when a sudden hand grabbed Loralee and dragged her into a dark alley way. Meg screamed, clutching the dresses close to herself as she backed off. Erik watched from the shadows as the familiar Hector Chaffee came into the view, hand around Loralee's mouth and other about her body so that she was enable to fight him off of her. Her eyes were wide open with surprise and fright making Erik's insides squirm.

It was about three days ago when Madame Giry made him grudgingly confess his feelings to her about Loralee. He had always thought of Christine as his one and only true love, but ever since she went away, he knew he had been wrong. Her sudden escape from him with Raoul had left Erik heart broken and believing that he'd never love again. Now as he looked back upon his love for Christine, he found it was more of an obsession for something he knew he'd never own.

Surprisingly, he had also started developing feelings for his trusted friend, Loralee. Her cheerful yet intelligent spirit moved him unlike Christine's innocence had. Erik felt comfortable around Loralee and she felt comfortable around him, treating him as an equal unlike any other and caring for him when nobody else was around. She helped him through his memories of Christine and helped him move on in live. Even though he still loved Christine, he couldn't help but feel in love with the shy and intriguing Loralee Donoghue.

And now, seeing the woman he secretly loved being held by a cruel man from both their pasts, made Erik angrier than ever.

"Hello, my dear Loralee. Have you missed me?"

"Get lost you bastard!" Loralee hissed to him. Then she turned to Meg.

"Meg, run!"

Meg took one look at her friend and then looked over to the side to find Erik and just managed to see him melt completely into the shadows before running as fast as she could to the safety of the Opera Populaire.

Loralee, glad to see her friend at safety from the crazed man, now calmed down a bit.

"How thoughtful of you to safe your friend from me. It would have been nice to kill her to get revenge from Madame Giry's annoying entrances on our little talks, wouldn't it?"

"You wouldn't dare harm a hair on her head," Loralee spat at him. He just punched her in the stomach and Loralee yelped in pain, feeing the bottom of the healing cut break open again. Hector raised his hand again to strike, but stopped short when he felt an iron hand close about his neck and ram him against the ally wall, making his grip loosen so that Loralee was able to force herself free.

"You will not touch her again," Erik hissed dangerously to Hector.

Loralee watched as Erik pinned Hector against the wall, his hood falling back to reveal his masked face. She guessed Hector's eyes would widen in fear and he'd suddenly plead his life, but instead a grin slowly crept onto his face.

"Hello _old friend_," Hector said to Erik, his greeting frozen over with hatred.

"Hello, Hector Chaffee," Erik hissed back, other hand fingering his punjab lasso underneath his cloak.

"You know each other?" Loralee said, amazed. Hector couldn't reply, due to his lack of air. Erik never took his eyes off of Hector as he explained to Loralee.

"His father was kind enough to take me in as an exhibition in the Gypsy traveling fair as the 'Devil's Child'. Unfortunately, we haven't been on very good sides ever since I murdered his father, Javert."


	25. Vincent's Theory

**Chapter Twenty Five already! --tears-- **

**Ethalas Tuath'an: Hmm, I do sound very arrogant and vain saying this, but I am pleased I thought up that link of Hector being Javert's son. I'm glad you found neat, too! **

**WashoopiCandi: Thanks so much for the review. And I do hate to admit, but there's not big fight in this chapter. Read on, though!**

**Carkeys: Glad you like it. Here's the next chapter!**

**AngelicFlutist: I'm glad you liked the costumes and their descriptions. I was afraid they were going to be deeply described and rather boring, so you just made my day by saying that! And no, I'm sorry, but I can't kill Hector for the reason you pointed out - he's the main villain! **

**PhantomLover05: --laughs evilly-- I mean, oh, yes - I'm terribly sorry for the cliffie! **

**LittleMollysheart: Well, hopefully this chapter can answer your questions. **

**HiddenOperaAngel: Ah, so many questions! But you should find your answers in this chapter! Thanks so much for the review!**

Chapter Twenty Five: Vincent's Theory

Hector and Erik stared at each other with death glares while Hector tried to pry Erik's hand off his throat, but to no avail. Loralee watched in horror at Erik's sudden mood of murder. Anger, hatred, and coldness made his usually welcoming green eyes snap with flames and burn Hector into a state of unease.

"If I'd of known you were acquainted with Loralee before, Erik, I would have killed her right off the bat just for revenge on my father's death."

Erik's grip on Hector's throat got stronger and Hector gasped for air, clawing uselessly at Erik's hand.

"You will never touch Loralee again and I'll make sure of it right now."

Erik pulled out his punjab lasso and slipped it around Hector's neck before he could react. Loralee watched in horror as Hector fell to his knees, trying desperately to loosen the noose around his throat but Erik just pulled harder, killing Hector slow on purpose so that Hector could suffer.

Loralee couldn't stand it any more when Hector turned a deathly purple shade.

"Erik, no! Stop it! You don't have to become a murderer again! Please, just leave him alive. . . Don't kill. . . Please. . ."

Erik looked at Loralee who was now crying silently and looking at Erik with a mixture of fear and some other emotion he couldn't place.

"You want this man - this monster - to live?"

"Please, don't kill! You don't have to finish it like this! Just let him go and he should learn his lesson."

Erik looked at her, enraged at Hector, but finally loosened the noose around Hector's neck when Loralee laid her hand on his arm in form of a plea.

He gave one last tug on the noose making Hector faint from lack of air, but then took it off, coiling it up.

"Come on," he said, his voice coarse and deadly from his encounter with Hector. His hands still itched to feel the punjab around Javert's son's neck, but his love for Loralee outdid his lust for blood.

The way Loralee had looked at him with pure desperation and tears on her face made Erik's insides crumble and made him ashamed of his actions.

After putting away the punjab, Erik took Loralee's arm and hurried her off through the street's shadows, her blonde wig laying forgotten next to Hector's unconscious form.

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"Loralee! Erik! Are you all right?"

Erik had lead Loralee straight away to Madame Giry who ushered them into her room.

"Meg came running to me telling how Loralee was caught by Hector again. Were either of you hurt?"

Soon Erik and Loralee were being pushed down onto the sofa and given cups of tea. Madame Giry and Meg were rushing about, worried looks on their faces. Loralee would have been laughing at the sight if it weren't for her previous encounter. Erik was still gripping onto her arm protectively but she didn't try and get free even when it became tighter.

"We're fine, Madame Giry," Erik said, amusement evident in his voice, also, but it was still laden with hatred. "He didn't go far."

Madame Giry and Meg stopped rushing about at Erik's words. Madame Giry came forward and sat down across from them at this note.

"What do you mean didn't go too far?" she asked, eyeing Erik warily. Loralee spoke up.

"Hector dragged me into an alley way and then I told Meg to get to safety which she luckily did. I only received a punch to the stomach before Erik intercepted."

"Erik, if you killed him-"

Erik glared at Madame Giry making her quiet.

"No, I did not kill him. I would have dearly liked to, but Loralee stopped me."

"Thank the heavens you were with him, Loralee," Madame Giry said to Loralee, a sigh of relief coming out of her mouth. Erik then turned to Loralee.

"I forgot about that punch. How's your stomach?"

Loralee raised her hand that had been clutching where he punched her and showed him a faint stain of blood on it.

"He reopened the bottom of the cut."

Anger flashed through Erik's eyes, yet they turned soft and caring when he looked into Loralee's eyes.

"Madame Giry, fetch some water and bandages."

Madame Giry nodded at Erik's request and hurried Meg off to get some water while she found some spare cloth for bandages. Erik looked at where he could see the blood seeping through the dress after laying her down on Meg's bed.

"I think I'll leave them to take care of you seeing that the wound is somewhere I shouldn't work with."

Loralee looked down and noticed what he meant. To mend the newly open wound would mean she'd have to take off her dress. She giggled much to Erik's surprise.

"I guess so. Such a thoughtful gentleman, Erik," she said, laying her head back down on the pillow and staring at the wooden ceiling. "It's not that bad, though. Just stings."

"You've already lost enough blood on Hector's account and I can't bare to see you lose any more," was all that Erik said before lifting her hand to his mouth and kissing it. After laying her hand back down, he left the room.

Loralee could hear Erik and Madame Giry converse in the other room, Erik telling her how to stitch up the wound, but her thoughts were else where.

Erik had just kissed her. Even though it was on the back of her hand it amazed her. She thought it almost impossible for Erik to kiss after seeing him in such murderous moods or crying out his love for Christine, but the chaste kiss on her hand showed her otherwise. Loralee soon giggled like a school girl silently to herself at Erik's kiss and smiled sheepishly up at the ceiling, her hand tingling where Erik's lips had just been.

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About two hours later, the opened wound now healing again with the stitches and cleaning, Meg came to Loralee with a dress from her room.

"I thought it might be more comfortable for you to wear a clean and unstained dress around the Opera Populaire," she explained as she helped Loralee tighten up her corset, not as tight as usual so as to let the cut feel more comfortable.

Once in the casual dark green dress, Loralee put her hair up in the normal tight bun. Half way through putting it up, Madame Giry came in.

"Erik's back in his home and had told me to remind you where the switch on your mirror is just in case you need an escape route from Monsieur Badeau."

Loralee laughed slightly as she put another pin in her hair.

"Oh, he also told me to convince you to leave your hair down. He hates it up in a bun."

Rolling her eyes, Loralee turned to Madame Giry.

"Don't tell me you're taking his side on this argument."

"Argument?" Madame Giry asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, argument. Ever since one of our beginning encounters he told me I shouldn't but my hair up in a bun and we argued a little. We've had that argument a couple of times before in the past."

"I see. . . Well, you might want to put it down to keep Erik off your back."

"Fine," Loralee sighed, taking out the pins. "It's the only argument he wins against me. I actually rather like it down."

"I'm sure Vincent Badeau would, also."

Loralee's eyes widened in the mirror.

"Oh god, then I'll have to wear it up! He only knows me with my hair up and it might be-"

Loralee's sentence was disrupted by Meg knocking on the door.

"Come in," Madame Giry said. Meg poked her head in and looked over at Loralee, amusement twinkling in her eyes.

"Someone by the name of Monsieur Vincent Badeau is looking for his beautiful love," she said teasingly to Loralee who just threw a pin at her friend's now giggling form.

"I swear that when I see Erik. . ." Loralee mumbled before taking the package that now contained her bloody dress and masquerade costume and going out to Vincent.

Madame Giry had been correct.

When Loralee exited Madame Giry's room and came into the hallway where Vincent was waiting, his jaw dropped at the sight of her with her hair down.

"My dear Mademoiselle McLay, what occasion calls for such a sight of you with your hair down?"

Obviously Vincent thought she was wearing it down for him.

"I'm wearing it down against my will because my dear friend likes it better this way."

"Well I can see why. You look absolutely breath taking with it down."

Loralee wondered if Erik thought the same thing and got a bit red in the cheeks from the thought. Vincent seeing her faint blush thought he had flattered her and took her arm in his, leading her off down the hall.

"I can take you to your room, if you'd like."

There was no stopping him now. He was already walking her there.

"I suppose that would be nice," she sighed out.

They walked in an uncomfortable silence until they were outside of her room. She turned to face Vincent and for the first time noticed how nervous he looked about something. Loralee had a feeling that it had something to do with the Masquerade.

"Is something the matter, Monsieur?"

"Well, I guess there's a question I've been wanting to ask you."

"What is it?" Loralee asked, putting on a fake confused look.

"I was just wondering if I could have the honor of going to the Masquerade with you this Saturday," he said, seeming quite relieved and relaxed after he managed to say what was on his mind. Loralee couldn't help but smile faintly.

"Oh, Monsieur, I'm terribly sorry."

_Yes, terribly sorry my foot! _ she thought, trying to bit back her grin. _I'm happier than ever now that I'm going with Erik._

She snapped out of her thoughts and looked up to Vincent who had a disappointed look fogging his once happy face.

"I'm already going with someone else," she said, watching with a glee she loved and hated as Vincent's happy face was completely drowned in disappointment.

"Oh, well, I'm sorry to have bothered you then, Mademoiselle. I had hoped I would have the honor but now I guess I shall go by myself."

Loralee couldn't help but feel sorry Vincent.

"Who are you going with, may I ask?" Vincent said suddenly.

"My friend," she said, speaking the truth in some ways.

"You've never told me who this friend is, Mademoiselle. Perhaps I would know him. What's his name?"

Loralee remembered what Erik and her had thought up for his occupation, so she explained to Vincent about her friend smoothly.

"His name is Erik Belmont. I'm not sure you would know him because he's visiting from Italy. He works there as an architect."

Vincent shook his head. He didn't know the man she was talking about, but had a suspicion of who it was. That man he had seen her walking with down the hallway of the Opera House the other day seemed to be very close to her. He remembered how he was wearing the white mask and knew who it had been Loralee was talking to.

The legendary Phantom of the Opera.

"I'm afraid I don't know him," Vincent lied. "May I at least know what you are going as so I may be able to talk to you?"

"I suppose so," Loralee said to him, not finding any excuse. "I'm going in a costume with flames and darkness as the theme. My friend is going in something familiar. It should be easy to spot us."

"Thank you, Mademoiselle. I shall look forward to seeing you there."

"Good bye, then!" Loralee said, slipping into her room.

Vincent determined to get his answer on whether or not she's going with the Phantom, walked down the hall so she could hear his footsteps disappear but then rushed back up to it silently, hiding in the shadows outside of the door.

She never came out.

He was about to suspect his theory wrong and made to leave but stopped when he heard something click in her room. There was the unmistakable sound of something gliding open on a metal frame and then a faint chuckle of a manly voice accompanying a girl's soft giggles. Vincent pressed his ear to the door to hear what they were saying. Sure enough, Beth's voice faintly reached his ears.

"I hate you, Erik."

The manly chuckle sounded out again before the owner's voice spoke out, low and almost ethereal, music vibrating in it's core. Vincent's mouth sagged open slightly at the power and beauty in it.

"Hate me? What occasion calls for such strong words, Mademoiselle?"

"You made me wear my hair down because you knew that Vincent would like it that way!"

"That was hardly the reason why, but now that I think about it, the interaction between the two of you with your hair down must have been entertaining."

"Just move aside so I can enter, please?"

Vincent listened as two silent people moved about, their voices disappearing after something glided shut in a soft moan of metal. Vincent stayed there, leaning against Beth's door, until he regained his sanity, straightened his clothes and walked off down he hall, his greatest fears proved true.

Beth McLay's so called friend was indeed the Phantom of the Opera.


	26. Masquerade

**School starts tomorrow so I'm not sure what I'll be doing with posting of the chapters. I probably will edit them the night before and post them in the morning before I leave or just post them up during the evening right after I edit them. Hopefully I'll stick to the daily posting cycle, though.**

**Don Juanita Triumphant: First of all - I love your new name! Second of all, your apology is accepted. I'm so glad to have you back! I was starting to get sad that you weren't posting anymore, but now your back! --throws confetti in the air and does a happy jig-- **

**PhantomLover05: You may take Vincent as your prisoner! Also, I'll try to check out your story sometime, but with school starting tomorrow, I'm not sure when. **

**Phantoms' Lobo: It's okay that you didn't review on the last chapter. Your review was missed, but it's good that you are still reviewing! I also love your way of calling Vincent a "Friggin' For head". For some reason that just makes me laugh so hard! **

**AngelicFlutist: I was hoping some people would get a rather sorrowful feeling towards Vincent because Loralee doesn't exactly hate him, just is annoyed at his insistent bugging-ness. I would also definitely swoon if Erik kissed my hand. Just the thought makes my stomach flip! Glad you love the story!**

**Ethalas Tuath'an: Aww, I'll miss you! --hugs Ethalas Tuath'an goodbye-- I might finish posting the story when your gone so I hope when you get back you'll enjoy the rest of it! **

Chapter Twenty Six: Masquerade

"If I have to wait another minute out here, Mademoiselle Donoghue, I shall simply just have to break through this door and drag you to the ball by you pretty little neck."

The only answer Erik got from outside of Loralee's door was a giggle.

"Thanks for calling my neck pretty!" she said in a sing song voice.

It was already ten minutes after the beginning of the ball and Loralee still hadn't managed to find a proper way to wear her hair. They had decided on going to the ball later than the rest so as not to attract that much attention, but Erik was still jumpy and nervous about the fact he was going to be out in public.

He growled at Loralee's thank you and just knocked on the door some more, irritated.

"What is taking you so bloody long in there anyway?" he asked.

"My hair," she replied simply.

"Your _what_?" he asked, enraged. "God damn it woman, wear it down!"

Loralee scowled at the door, but none the less tried to see what it would look like if she wore her hair down. Surprisingly, it looked absolutely stunning and fitted perfectly with her costume and she broke out into a smile.

"Congratulations Erik! You've just knocked off ten more minutes of waiting for me."

She then put on her mask as Erik let out an audible sigh of relief and went over to the door, opening it.

Erik had been leaning sideways against the door at the current time she opened it, so if he hadn't caught onto the door frame he would have toppled over onto her. In the act of catching himself before he fell onto her, though, his face ended up very close to hers.

Loralee and Erik just stared at each other in shock, neither wanting to move. She blushed at the closeness of their mouths and praised the fact that she wore a mask to hide her now flaming cheeks. Erik glanced at her lips with the overwhelming longing to kiss such a delicate and soft mouth. He tore his eyes off of them and instead stood up straight, backing away from her face, and cleared his throat.

"You look. . . breath taking," Erik said to her in a slightly dazed voice making Loralee blush even more.

"Thanks," she said and looked at him. "You don't look too bad yourself."

" 'Too bad', Loralee? Is that all I get when I worked extra hard to get myself ready for this special occasion?"

"Life's tough," Loralee said to him, smiling ear to ear. She actually thought Erik was incredibly handsome.

"Shall we go, then?" he asked, holding out his hand. She took it and after he kissed it gently, they hooked arms and headed off to the Masquerade.

It was absolutely exquisite!

Tons of people had attended, everybody with their own unique and colorful costumes. Some people dressed up rather absurdly with costumes of cows or birds, where as some other people dressed up in remarkably beautiful long dresses or robes of gold and rich blue. Erik and Loralee were like a black hole among the all the color. One glance from each other and they both had to bite back their laughter.

"Well, now at least Vincent will be able to catch us easily," she said to him.

"What do you mean?" Erik asked, both of them walking along the edge of the crowd in the shadows.

"I told him how I'm going in flames and darkness and you in something familiar. I don't see any other darkness out in that crowd."

"None from my eyes," agreed Erik. Then quietly he whispered in Loralee's ear, making her spine tingle when his breath caressed her cheek and ear. "Do you wish to see Monsieur Badeau?"

"Good heavens, no! I'd rather. . . rather. . ."

"Rather what, Loralee?" he asked, clearly amused.

"Oh be quiet, Erik. You know I don't like him and you're only trying to torture me with the fact that he likes me."

Erik only grinned sheepishly which granted him a glare from Loralee.

"Well, how can I make it up to you?" he asked her. She shrugged her shoulders, but Erik got an idea when a waltz started up.

"How about the first dance of the evening?" he asked her, extending his hand. She smiled up at him and gave him her hand.

"You know I can't say no to a dance!"

So he whisked her off into a waltz, the other people around them were just blurs as they danced, eyes fixed on each other. Loralee's graceful feet from being a ballerina all her life matched Erik's perfectly as he lead her across the ballroom floor, going from one side to another throughout the course of the song.

When the dance ended, Loralee didn't want to stop and reluctantly separated from Erik. He kissed her hand chastely before his eyes flickered away from Loralee's, seeing something he most definitely didn't want to see, and let out a silent groan.

"What is it?" Loralee asked him. Erik's gaze suddenly focused back onto Loralee's as he held out his hand again.

"Shall I save you from the love struck boy behind you, or would you like to face a living nightmare?"

Loralee got his hint and took his hand again. Only once they were safely dancing on the ballroom floor did she look over to confirm her guess. Sure enough, Vincent Badeau was watching her dance with Erik. When he caught her eye, he waved to her, but Loralee slid her eyes onto other people next to him, pretending she didn't notice his wave, before looking back up to Erik.

"My hero!" she said to him making him chuckle.

"Truth be told, I didn't really feel like conversing with him either. I'm sure he'd have a few words with me about dancing with 'his girl'."

Loralee glared at him.

"You speak as if I'm a piece of property."

"Welcome to Paris, Mademoiselle Donoghue," Erik said jokingly before quickening his strides to match the newly hastened waltz beat. She yelped a little with surprise and glee but quickly matched his strides.

She wasn't ballet mistress for nothing.

Later during the waltz when they got comfortable with the fast pace Loralee dared mention the emotional topic.

"Uh, Erik?"

"Yes?" he asked, looking down at her.

"Have you seen Christine yet?"

Erik suddenly tensed in her hands and a muscle twitched in his neck.

"Not yet. There's too many people."

"Do you think you know what you're going to do when you see her?"

"Most likely ask for a dance and. . ." Erik took a gulp, his eyes flashing. "And apologies for my past actions."

Loralee smiled up at him and reassuringly squeezed the hand she was holding.

"You'll do fine, Erik." Then she shrugged. "And if you do need help, I'm always there."

Erik couldn't help but smile down on her as she said such words that no one else had ever spoken to him. It took all his will power not to lean down and kiss right then and there.

"Thank you," he said, and by God did he mean it.

They danced the next few dances happily, secretly enjoying the closeness of one another as they wove in and out of other happy pairs. It was after their fifth dance that Erik finally spotted Christine.

She was over by the drink tables, sipping on a glass of water. She was wearing a pale green dress made out of many skirts of silk with a cream sheen covering the poofed out bottom. Diamonds were woven in on the corset and pale green ribbon adorned her beautiful curly brown hair. She was wearing a pale green, diamond encrusted mask which was small enough to show her happy pink cheeks. Raoul was over talking to some of his wealthy acquaintances. Erik was very lucky to catch her alone.

No wonder why Erik had fell in love with Christine. She was an absolute beauty in every way possible.

Loralee felt her mood sink considerably when she saw Erik gazing at Christine longingly, his hand on Loralee's tightening.

"I think it's time I face Monsieur Badeau's stupidity," she said silently to Erik. He glanced at her quickly, but it seemed Erik couldn't keep his eyes off of Christine.

"Good luck," she silently whispered to Erik as he left her and traveled off to Christine. Loralee stayed just long enough to see Erik ask her for a dance. Christine looked up at him and her joyous face suddenly turned pale, but she reluctantly accepted his hand.

Sighing, Loralee turned around to come almost face to face with Vincent.

"A pleasure to see you here, Mademoiselle McLay."

Loralee had the overwhelming urge to start speaking in a different language and walk away pretending she had no idea who he was or who Mademoiselle McLay was, but resisted, knowing he already knew that she was in fact Beth.

"Good evening, Monsieur Badeau."

"May I take this dance?" he asked, holding out his hand to her. She reluctantly let him have hers. As Vincent led her around the dance floor, Loralee stayed as far away from him as seemed proper and glared at him when she figured out he was staring at her open mouthed. His dancing was also rather mechanical compared to Erik's graceful stepping. Oh, how she had been spoiled by Erik.

"You look absolutely splendid tonight, my dear," he said, hoping to flatter her. She didn't reply at all except flashing him a dazzling smile. While dancing, she noticed how he was getting into that stiff state of nervousness that he did the other day when he asked her to the Masquerade. She looked at him questioningly, knowing whatever he said she wasn't going to like.

"Is something the matter, Monsieur Badeau? You seem awfully tense. There must be something important on your mind."

"Yes, well, I guess it's a good time to discuss it now." He sighed and stopped the dance suddenly, leading Loralee over to the side of the room, near the main doors. Vincent then took both of her hands and looked straight into her dusky blue eyes.

"Ever since I laid eyes on you, Beth, I've been a prey to love. Every day I live for you and every night I dream of you. I know this is all sudden and you barely even know me, but from what I have seen, it's been true love at first sight."

Loralee tried not to gag and left her face emotionless.

"I wish I wouldn't have to put it like this, so sudden and blunt, but Mademoiselle Beth McLay, will you marry me?"


	27. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

**Ahh! A chapter many of you have been waiting for, but I won't say any more - you'll just have to read it!**

**Phantoms' Lobo: Hmm, Vincent might have a bad day then if you come across him? I personally like the "drop kick" part. **

**Random Person: Yes, many people have pointed out that Vincent's an idiot. Maybe I should start a "Vincent is an Idiot Club", but it would most likely go nowhere.**

**PhantomLover05: Read on and you'll see if she says "no" or not!**

**AngelOfMusic: I also find Vincent very amusing! I'm also really thrilled that you're so into my story! **

**LittleMollysheart: Well, here's the next chapter so you can see if she breaks Erik's heart or not.**

**Carkeys: Yes, it was quite obvious that Vincent was going to ask Loralee to marry him sometimes in the story. I just thought it would be fun and amusing to put it in!**

**HiddenOperaAngel: I know how you feel. I just started school today and I rediscovered my loathing for homework. Anyway, read the chapter and you'll get all your answers to the questions you asked!**

Chapter Twenty Seven: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

Loralee stared at Vincent.

She hadn't been expecting _that_.

Maybe a proclamation of love or an invitation to dine, but not to marry him.

Now she really felt like a piece of property. He hadn't even asked if she loved him, hadn't even asked if she was courting anybody already, and always overlooked her statements and comments. But now he was standing before her and asking her to marry him!

He wasn't even on his knee, damn it!

She felt Vincent take her hand and slip a blue velvet box into it. Opening it was a large golden ring with a rather huge diamond on it. She had to admit, it was a very ugly ring, made mostly just to show off the wealth of the person who wore it.

By now numerous people were looking at them, whispering and giggling behind their hands and pointing at Vincent and Loralee.

Finally Loralee gathered enough sanity and courage to look up into Vincent's anxious eyes.

It wasn't his fault. He was purely innocent and it hurt her to think of being so cold to just say no right out without a second thought. And in front of all these people? No, she wouldn't be able to do that.

"Please say something, Beth," he said, his nerves showing in his voice. She bit her lip and looked at the ring in her hand.

While looking down, she saw Erik in the corner of her eyes. She almost broke down in tears when she saw him. Loralee didn't want to betray her love to him, but neither did she want to hurt Vincent. While watching Erik, she saw him confess something which seemed important and Christine gape at him with awe. Soon Christine was rattling on about her happiness towards Erik and what not while Erik smiled slightly. Loralee forced her eyes off of Erik and back up to Vincent.

"I. . . I don't know what to say. I didn't expect this. Perhaps. . . Could I think about it?"

Vincent looked a little relieved that she wasn't saying no and nodded his head eagerly.

"You can have all the time you want," he said sincerely, slipping the ring out of the box and into her hand. "Keep the ring while you think."

Loralee felt a rush of gratitude towards Vincent and couldn't help but hug him in thanks.

"Thank you," she said. Vincent was rather shocked at her display of thanks, but covered it quickly enough to smile at her and kiss her hand.

"Come, I'll get you a drink. You look like you could use one."

Vincent linked arms with Loralee and lead her off to the side of the hall, through all the people and by the edge of the dance floor.

While walking a few people stopped them, giving Vincent his congratulations to have such a beautiful fiancé. The first one really irked Loralee and made her want to rip away from Vincent and pronounce how they were not engaged yet. She saw Erik again and almost broke down in tears again.

They were stopped for about their fifth time when Loralee finally lost it. She tapped Vincent's shoulder.

"Excuse me, Vincent, but I have to go and see to something."

Before Vincent could ask what, Loralee was gone, mixed in with all the dancers.

Loralee was hurrying through the crowds of dancers towards the large dark man on the other side. She couldn't stand it. Vincent and her engaged? The thought was repulsive. She fingered his engagement ring in her fingers and had a sudden urge to chuck it far away off the Opera House roof.

Coming up to Erik and Christine, she was glad to see them off to the side so they wouldn't attract much attention. Surprisingly the Vicomte wasn't around, either, keeping a careful eye on his newly wed wife.

Just as she came up, also, Christine's eyes narrowed and her hand reached up. Luckily Loralee saw what she was doing before Erik even noticed. Shooting forward, Loralee grabbed Christine's wrist, keeping her hand away from any danger of taking off the mask.

Both Christine and Erik looked over at Loralee. Erik's gaze thanked her silently where as Christine's was slightly confused. Loralee didn't notice her glance up at Erik questioningly.

"I don't think you'll want to do that, Vicomtess de Changy," Loralee said, the warning evident in her voice. Christine, knowing what Loralee was warning her about, nodded silently, lowering her hand when Loralee let go of it. Christine looked up to Erik.

"Is the lady you talked about?" Erik gave Christine a glare of caution and then nodded.

"Loralee Donoghue, may I present to you the Vicomtess de Changy," he said. Christine and Loralee nodded to each other and shook hands. Loralee glanced warily at Erik who answered her silent question.

"Don't worry, she won't call the police in to carry you away to Hector. I told her everything."

"Well then, it's a pleasure to meet you Vicomtess," Loralee said with a sigh of relief.

"Please, call me Christine."

Loralee marveled at Christine's voice. It was so angelic and beautiful, as if she were sent down from the heavens. Erik said he taught her how to sing and now Loralee could see why he wanted to do such a thing back then. His teachings combined with her voice made her the best singer in all of Paris besides Erik.

Just then Loralee also noted with surprise that she had never heard Erik sing before. She had heard him play the organ and violin, but never sing.

"Erik has told me a lot about you," Loralee said to Christine, glancing at Erik who was standing off to the side, emotionless.

"Has he now? I hope they're all good things."

Loralee nodded. Christine then smiled and leaned in close to Loralee whispering her next statement.

"He's told me a lot about you, too."

Christine winked as Erik said, "You know, I am still standing here."

Loralee couldn't help but blush at Christine's confession and looked at Erik with a hidden raised eye brow.

"Well, I hope they're good comments, too."

Erik just grumbled something about "annoying women" as Christine nodded enthusiastically.

"Everything was good, do not worry," she said, smiling and grasping Loralee's hand reassuringly. While she did so, Christine felt Vincent's ring press into her palm and her eyes widened as she pulled Loralee's hand up.

"What's this?" Christine gasped when she saw what it was. "An engagement ring! Who gave this to you?"

"No doubt the naive excuse of a boy, Monsieur Vincent Badeau?" Erik asked from the side, question spoken more as a statement, his voice slightly humored.

"Shut it, Erik. I couldn't say no."

"You mean you agreed to marry Vincent Badeau, the famous politician's son?"

"Oh, so that's who Edward Badeau is!" Then she caught Erik's eyes and relief that she hadn't said yes to Vincent's proposal flooded her. She would have hated herself if she had when she was so in love with Erik.

"And no, I haven't agreed. I couldn't say no to him in front of all those people, so I pretended I needed time to think about the possibility of being engaged to him."

She could swear Erik let out a breath of relief besides her as Christine's eyebrows drew together.

"Why do you not want to marry him? He's a respectable man and very wealthy."

Loralee glared at Christine.

"I'm sorry, but I do not go for people of wealth or high status. I love men rather for their trust and kindness. Monsieur Vincent is highly naive and doesn't take no for an answer, so therefore I have no desire to marry him."

Christine looked rather surprised at Loralee's explanation and the way Loralee had suddenly snapped at her, but recovered quickly enough to smile at Loralee.

"Well then, you're a very sensible lady, Mademoiselle Donoghue. I wish you the best luck and give you one word of advise. Stick to your heart."

"So how are you?" Loralee asked, ignoring Erik's groan of lack of patience besides her. Christine lit up brightly, cheeks slightly flustered.

"I'm wonderful. Just last week. . . Well. . . Just last week I found out I was pregnant!"

"That's wonderful!" Loralee exclaimed, hugging Christine. She was slightly surprised that Erik wasn't breaking down into sobs at this, and guessed that it was because she had already talked to him about it. Christine was about to continue, but suddenly Erik's hand was on Loralee's upper arm, his body tense and eyes glaring at a figure approaching them.

"I'm sorry, Christine, but we must leave," Loralee said as she saw who had angered and startled Erik so much. Raoul, the Vicomte, was coming up towards Christine, two glasses of water in his hands. Christine saw and nodded in understanding.

"I wish to speak to you again sometime, Loralee," was all Christine managed before Loralee had grabbed Erik and dragged him off through a door towards the stage, throwing a quick "Good bye!" and "Erik and I have to talk!" over her shoulder to Christine.

Once out of all the commotion of the ball, Erik regained his sanity and pried Loralee's arm off of his.

"Where are you going?" he asked her.

"Some where private where we can talk," she said, stopping and looking around for a place.

"How about Box 5?"

"Perfect," she said, dragging him off once again towards the box. Once inside, Loralee made sure nobody was around before slumping down into a chair.

"Well. . ." Erik asked her, leaning against the wall and staring at Loralee calmly.

"How did it go?" she asked.

"I beg your pardon?" Erik asked.

"Don't 'pardon' me Erik! You know what I mean! How did your conversation and dance go with Christine."

Erik now slumped down into a chair.

"Well, she recognized me immediately but accepted my dance all the same. I tried to make it as normal and polite as possible and asked her how she was doing. Then she confessed to me about. . . about their baby."

He took a shuddering breath and put his head in his hands.

"That was it. I knew when she said that she's pregnant with the Vicomte's child there was no way she was ever going to come back. You could call it that I 'overcame my obsession' and the truth surprisingly didn't hurt that much."

He looked up then and stared at Loralee.

"But now I realize how nobody will ever love me."

His words hurt Loralee and she could feel tears coming to her eyes. She went over to Erik and wrapped her arms around him. He wasn't crying, but she still thought he needed some human affection after his confession. To calm him down and destroy that horrid thought he had in his mind, Loralee wanted to shout out her love for him, but she knew that would be absurd.

"Why do you say such a horrid thing, Erik? Why do you under look yourself constantly?"

"Because I'm a monster!" Erik said angrily, voice rising slightly.

"You're a man, Erik," Loralee said assuringly, unwrapping her arms around him and sitting back so he could see the truth in her eyes. Erik just stood up and walked away.

"Man my foot," he grumbled. "I'll never be a true man, not with _this_ face," he said, gesturing to his mask.

"Why do you always say such things about your face. I'm sure it's not true. I'm sure someone can look upon it and love."

"How do you know?" Erik yelled. "How do you know that a face that has killed and shunned people you love would be looked upon in love? No, Loralee. No one ever will look upon me with calmness. No one!"

Loralee had to admit she was slightly frightened by Erik's temper so she thought it best not to talk and instead let him speak his mind. He looked at her.

"You look at me with pity, Loralee, but that's because you've never seen my true face. You've never seen my true self. I'm a monster and always will be one! There is no way that I'll ever be truly loved."

Loralee gulped.

"You can not say such things to me because I have not seen your face yet."

"You haven't seen it because I don't want to lose you," Erik said, finally breaking down, tears coming silently out of his eyes.

Loralee gaped at him.

He didn't want to lose her?

_Oh, Erik. . . You'll never lose me. . ._

She wanted to prove that to him.

"You'll never lose me, Erik. I won't run away. I won't hide. I'll be there by your side forever."

Erik looked at her.

"I don't want to lose you, Loralee," he repeated and then quite suddenly:

"I love you. . ."

Loralee stared at Erik in shock.

Had Erik just told her that he loved her? But she thought that he loved Christine?

But as she looked into Erik's eyes, Loralee saw he was telling the truth and her heart leapt for joy.

A large smile plastered over her face as she walked up to Erik, taking his hands in hers.

"Do you want to know why I didn't say yes to Vincent's proposal, Erik?" she asked him. "Because I already love another man. A man much more worthy of love than that little naive boy. I love a man who may be scarred, but has the spirit of an angel."

Erik looked at her, mouth slightly open.

"Me?" he whispered, voice barely audible. Loralee just smiled at him lovingly.

"Remember my father's saying? It's the inside that counts, not the looks, and Erik, I want to prove to you that saying is correct."

She took his hand in hers and guided it up to his mask, leaving his hand on the cold surface.

"Please. . ." she whispered. Erik looked at Loralee, memorizing her happy face before he was sure it would disappear. Then he ripped it off along with the wig before he could change his mind, closing his eyes so he wouldn't see Loralee's pained reaction.

Loralee, unbeknownst to him, didn't do so much as flinch. Sure, the face was hideous, but she wanted to prove to Erik that his face didn't disturb her love. The red skin protruded out at random places as there were large welts on the side near the ear. His real hair was a light brown color and bald up the one side of the face where the welts and harsh disfigured skin continued.

She felt anger towards all those people who had shunned him because of his face and wouldn't look beyond his features and into his soul. It was those dimwitted people who made Erik into the secluded and raging creature he is. She wished to undo all those wrong doing in his life and help him life as a normal human being should.

Without hesitation, she lifted her hand up to his deformed face, caressing the mutilated skin with soft and caring fingers. Erik's eyes snapped open in shock and was even more surprised when he saw Loralee standing in front of him, normal as ever, stroking his cheek.

With a moan of love, he snuggled closer into the hand that she had on his rumpled skin.

"How can you stand it?"

"Because I love you and never _ever_ will hurt you. It's fine and doesn't disturb my love for you the least."

She then went up on tip toes and kissed his deformed cheek gently. They gazed into each others eyes.

"I love you, Erik," she said breathlessly, noticing how close together they were. Erik leaned closer, seemingly not disturbed by the closeness and stared into her eyes.

"I love you, too, Loralee," he said in a breathless voice. Then he covered the distance in-between their head and brought lips onto hers.

The kiss was passionate yet gentle, warm and secure. Just then did Loralee realize that she had been crying, but didn't know which tears she was tasting in the kiss. Neither of them cared, though, and just pulled each other closer. Erik had taken off Loralee's mask and thrown it aside with is own as he deepened the kiss.

They only pulled apart when both needed air and rejoined seconds afterwards, love now shinning in each other's eyes. Just as the kiss was deepening considerably, Erik let out a moan which was stopped short by a crash and a grunt.

Loralee pulled back and almost screamed when she felt Erik crumple into her arms, unconscious. He had a trickle of blood going down his head where he had been hit by the hilt of a gun. Loralee gasped when she looked passed Erik, who was now limp in her arms, because in front of her loomed the figure of Hector Chaffee, gun in hand.


	28. Who Do You Chose?

**I can't believe it! Only two more chapters! It's sooooo sad. . .**

**Lady Fae: Well, I didn't put this chapter up as soon as I would have liked to, but I hope it's good enough for you!**

**AngelicFlutist: I've gotten a lot of angry comments for me ruining the moment between Loralee and Erik. Oh well, the rest of your review most definitely makes up for it! Huggles for you! **

**Phantoms' Lobo: Wow, those are quite some words against Hector and Vincent. I agree wholly with Hector being thrown into a fire, but Vincent. . . well, you'll just have to read on!**

**greyhoundmom: Thanks for the review! **

**LittleMollysheart: No problem for the notes at the beginning of the chapters. I just figured everyone deserved them as a sort of "Thank You" for reviewing and reading my story. And I agree with you - I do feel sorry for Vincent even though he's quite the loser.**

**wolves-song: Thanks! **

**PhantomLover05: I think everyone should hate Hector right now. I mean, come on! He shouldn't have ruined that moments Loralee and Erik were having!**

**Carkeys: Yeah! Another fluff fan! I'm definitely a hopeless romantic, I'm just a bit shy about the fact in front of my friends. **

**HiddenOperaAngel: I really want to see "Van Helsing" and have heard so much good stuff about it from other PotO fans. And questions and theories should be answered sometime soon!**

**AngelOfMusic: I don't know why, but I get all happy and excited when I write about kisses. And I'm glad you didn't see Hector barging in - it was supposed to be a surprise.**

Chapter Twenty Eight: Who Do You Chose?

"Hello my sweet," Hector said coldly, approaching her. Loralee backed up, hauling Erik with her, arms wrapped protectively around his heavy frame.

"Get away from us, you monster!" she said to him.

"Monster, you call me?" Hector asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'd think that man to be a monster. His face almost made me vomit with disgust. And to think my gun touched such a cursed beast. . ."

Loralee's eyes flashed as she dropped Erik onto the ground, walking up to Hector and back handing him hard enough to send him stumbling backwards into a chair.

"How dare you speak of Erik that way! How dare you call him a monster when it is you that are the true one!"

She started walking towards him again, but Hector held out his gun in her direction, making Loralee halt in fear.

"What are you going to do now with no Phantom to save you, Loralee? Everybody's too far away to hear your yells of help, and if they would, they'd think it's just some whore having fun with a man in a distant room."

"I am not a whore!" Loralee hissed through her teeth, yet standing still.

"Really?" Hector asked, getting up and moving up next to Loralee. "What are you then? Moments ago I saw you giving yourself willingly to that spawn of Satan, a task that only a whore perform."

"He's not a monster and I'm not a whore! We love each other!"

Hector looked in disgust at Loralee. Then, still keeping the gun on her, Hector went over to Erik, kicking him over. He could feel Loralee's hatred vibrating in the air but pretended not to notice. Erik's unconscious face had a look of disbelief and pain on it, hurting Loralee's heart.

"Some how I find that hard to believe," Hector said, deathly cold. "But I shall have fun with the both of you anyway."

He turned to face a pale and frightened Loralee.

"You wouldn't harm him!" she whispered, fear evident in her voice.

"Oh really now?" Hector said. He leaned down, lifted Erik's face off the ground by his cravat, and punched him in the head. Loralee screamed and started clawing at Hector which made him whirl around to face her.

"Wench! I should have known better!"

And before Loralee could do anything, he punched her also in the face, leaving her dazed so he could tie together her arms and feet. Loralee tried to get away from Hector but only tripped over her tied feet and landed on the floor, head hitting the ground and making her vision swim. Groaning, she lifted her head, so she could see Hector.

With his gun still on Loralee, he punched Erik again, blood now covering Erik's thankfully still unconscious face. Loralee screamed again, but instead of Hector rounding on her, he just laughed a cold and mirthless laugh.

"Scream all you want. There's no one here to safe your beloved Phantom."

He kicked Erik in the stomach and Loralee closed her eyes, thanking the heavens that Erik was unconscious. She screamed, feeling helpless, and hated herself for not being able to defend Erik from such harsh treatment.

Tears streamed down her face as she prayed that help would come, but Hector kept on torturing Erik right in front of her very eyes.

She screamed out louder than ever when he pointed the gun straight at Erik's head.

"ERIK!" she screamed out, and then shut her eyes tight, not wanting to see Erik get shot. Instead of the shot, though, a door slamming open made both Loralee and Hector jump, turning towards the entrance of the box.

In the door frame stood Vincent Badeau, gun in hand, the gun pointing straight at Hector's heart.

"Do not harm the girl!" he shouted at Hector, coming farther into the box.

"So," Hector said, spinning around to face Loralee. "You have a man to help protect you from me, eh? Worthless scum!"

Hector raised a hand to strike Loralee, but the audible cock of the hammer on Vincent's pistol stopped Hector's poised hand. Fire raged in his eyes as he turned to face Vincent, holding out his own gun.

"Monsieur, there is nothing to worry about. I have not been harming your precious little whore. I was only protecting her from the beast over here."

Hector waved over to Erik who was barely breathing on the ground. Vincent glanced quickly at Erik and his eyes widened. He let out a strangled cry of disgust at Erik's uncovered and blood crusted face before turning to face Loralee.

"I knew it! I knew it all along! You were friends with the Phantom of the Opera!"

Loralee stared at him, tears running down her cheeks.

"Oh, Beth, why didn't you ever tell me? Why didn't you tell me he was controlling you so that you couldn't court me?"

"He was not controlling me!" Loralee shouted at Vincent who was taken aback by her harshness. "He never has! I love him, that's why I never courted you. . . that's why I can't marry you. . ."

Vincent did look hurt and gulped when he saw her engagement ring lying besides Loralee's discarded mask. Hector stood between the two, clearly confused.

"Monsieur, perhaps you should like to know that this Beth McLay you have been visiting is actually the Loralee Donoghue I have been after all along. I am Hector Chaffee."

Vincent's eyes widened in horror as he looked from Loralee's tear stained face to Hector's own smirking one.

"You lie!" he said, raising his gun at Hector's chest again. "She is Beth McLay."

"No. . ." Loralee cried out quietly. "He's right. I am Loralee Donoghue, but I only ran away from you because you abused me beyond belief!"

Then Loralee spat at Hector who growled in anger, raising his pistol to Loralee's head. Vincent shouted out again.

"I'll kill you! I swear I'll kill you if you have my love!"

"You're love, monsieur? This girl apparently wants to be with me. Don't you, Loralee?"

Loralee sobbed, shaking her head no, and watched the two men fearfully. What ever happened to her strong and brave self?

"No, she wants me," Vincent growled, glaring daggers at Hector. Both men were standing at opposite ends of the room now, Hector to Loralee's right and Vincent to her left. They had their guns stretched out, aimed at each others hearts, ready to fire.

"Well, we'll just have to find out, won't we?" Hector said cooly. He kept his gaze locked on Vincent's while he spoke to Loralee. "Loralee, who do you choose?"

Loralee was sobbing uncontrollably at this point. She buried her head in her arms, thinking madly. She hated Hector beyond belief and damned him to hell for all she cared, yet she didn't love Vincent either. He definitely seemed more trustworthy out of the two of them, but no matter how hard she tried, he always got on her nerves and never let her speak her mind. It was Erik who filled her with such bliss and freedom. It was Erik who cared for her even when he himself was burning in hell. It was Erik who she longed to kiss and feel in her arms.

Looking up, she stared at both of them before speaking rather calmly, eyes flickering over Erik's still form.

"I choose neither of you for my heart already belongs to someone else."

The silence that followed her words was almost unbearable. It was almost too loud for Loralee to handle, and she longed for her hands to be unbound so she could cover her ears. But instead she was forced to listen to the dangerous quiet.

Then Hector let out a wild cry of anger, eyes flashing, and a gun shot echoed through the whole theater.

Loralee let out a scream as she saw Vincent crumple to the ground, chest wound bleeding freely. Through the smoke from the gun shot, she watched, horrified, as Hector turned to her, madness clear all over his face.

"You choose neither, eh? Well, I'll make it so you only have one choice!"

Hector turned to Erik while Loralee struggled to get over and protect her love's unconscious body.

"NO!" she yelled. Hector didn't seem to hear and only cocked his hammer, taking aim at Erik's heart.

Finding her attempts at saving Erik useless, Loralee crumpled to the ground, screaming when a second gun shot echoed throughout the theater.

Loralee's world seemed to stop. Erik was dead. Hector just killed Erik. She sobbed uncontrollably, looking up fearfully.

Instead of seeing Erik dead, though, Loralee saw Hector lying, sprawled out on the ground, eyes wide open with shock, blood falling out of a head wound and making a halo of blood around his head. The sight made Loralee want to vomit, but she bit it back. She looked for his killer and saw Vincent propped up on his elbow, in obvious pain, gun still pointed at where Hector's head would have been.

Vincent looked at Loralee, pale and pained, and just managed to choke out a final sentence to Loralee.

"Forgive me. . ."

Then Vincent fell to the ground, eyes staring straight ahead and his body stilling forever.

Tear ran down Loralee's face as she suddenly realized what position she was in.

She was bound in a room with two dead men, one innocent and one a murderous lunatic. Her love was lying unconscious to the side, dried blood over his face and his deformity showing. In the distance she could hear a theater door open a shouts and cries ringing out as some people came in with the police to search for the source of the gunshots and screams.

Loralee raised herself so that if some one looked up, they would be able to see her.

"Up here!" she shouted weakly, yet a few people still heard her, pointed up to Box 5, and went rushing off towards it. The rest came after.

Loralee slumped back down, crawling over to Vincent. She made sure not to touch his blood while she bent down and kissed his cheek.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered to him before turning away and crawling over as quickly as she could to Erik's unconscious form. When she got to him, she shook him gently, trying to wake him up.

"Erik? Erik! Please wake up! Please wake up. . . I can't live with out you. . . Not now. . . Not like this. . . Don't leave me. . ." She started to cry again when he wouldn't answer. She buried her head in his chest. "I love you. . ." she whispered to him.

Her reply was something shifting underneath her.

Loralee stopped crying and looked up to see Erik's eyes flutter open, but quickly shut again, hissing in pain.

"Erik?" she asked, her voice choking on tears. His eyes opened up again, widening when they saw Loralee bound and crying.

"Loralee? What happened? Why are you bound?"

"Hector came and knocked you out. Then he bound me up and started beating you up while you were unconscious in front of me."

Erik's eyes widened and just then he noticed the blood on his face.

"Did he hurt you?" Erik asked suddenly, eyes wide with worry.

"Not badly. Just punched my face when I tried to safe you." Erik still shook with anger. "He was about to shoot you when Vincent came in with his own gun telling him not to harm me. They then made me choose between the two of them, but I chose neither of them."

She started crying again and Erik struggled to sit up, wincing at the pain.

"Then. . . Then Hector shot Vincent and I thought he was dead. He then told me that he'd make me have only one choice, and was about to kill you when Vincent used up his last strength and shot Hector."

With it all out she started sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder while he stroked her back and kissed the top of her head. Erik nearly jumped out of his skin when the door burst open and there stood Madame Giry and the Chief of Police, a crowd of people behind them.

Madame Giry screamed in horror and disgust, turning away from the scene to avert her eyes from such a gruesome sight. The Chief of Police let out a string of curses, entering the room and going over to Vincent's body. People behind the door were standing on their tip toes to get a peek of what happened, but the police kept them away from the door, while some others entered to investigate, Christine, Raoul, Meg, and Madame Giry standing off to the side, horrified expressions clearly written over their faces.

Erik covered his face with his hand and groped about for his mask and wig. He then saw them on the opposite side of the room and cursed under his breath.

The Chief of Police stood up from Vincent.

"Died from a bullet to the chest. Is holding a gun that is missing one bullet."

A police officer scribbled it all down hastily onto paper. Another police officer went over to look at Hector's body.

"Dead, also, from a bullet wound, yet this one to the head. Also has one bullet missing from his gun."

Then the Chief of Police went over to Erik and Loralee. Raoul gasped when he saw the Phantom but was restrained by Christine and Madame Giry. Christine looked on in horror while Meg started weeping silently.

"We're going to have to question you, monsieur, about this incident. Some basic questions first. What's your name?"

Erik looked up at the Chief of Police, hand still in place over his deformity.

"Erik," he said after a while.

"Last name?"

"I don't have one."

The Chief of Police raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't question on.

"What is your job?"

"I work as a ghost."

"A what?" the Chief of Police exclaimed, annoyed at Erik.

"I told you, my job is a ghost here at this Opera House."

"Are you the Phantom of the Opera?" the Chief of Police asked, astounded.

"Yes," Erik replied, emotionless. The Chief of Police looked quite confused and ordered some guards over.

"I'm afraid, then, we'll have to arrest you-"

"No!"

Loralee flung her tied hands over Erik's neck, hugging him close to her. She glared up at the Chief of Police, daring him to come forward.

"He's innocent! I can tell you the story-"

"Whether or not he's innocent tonight, mademoiselle, does not matter. He killed and burned down the Opera House long ago. Christine de Changy over there was the reason for his madness, and we must arrest him."

Loralee clung to Erik none the less and just looked at the Chief of Police with eyes full of pain, sorrow, fear, and desperation. The Chief of Police, although deeply moved by her saddened formed, ordered some police to bind Erik up.

"No."

This time it wasn't Loralee objecting. Christine stepped forward, glancing at Erik and Loralee before looking up to the Chief of Police.

"Don't arrest him."

The Chief of Police looked quite angered. He couldn't not arrest the Phantom, but with the Vicomtess saying he should be set free, the very Vicomtess who was taken prisoner by the Opera Ghost, he had to listen to her first.

"But-"

"No 'buts', monsieur, just let him free. He's a fine man now and won't cause any more trouble."

"Christine. . ."

Raoul stepped towards her, but Christine made him stay where he was with a glare.

"He deserves a normal life."

Erik almost cried right then and there when the Chief of Police agreed to Christine's order, motioning the police officers to let go of him. Erik had luckily managed to still keep his face covered the whole time.

"Right then, Monsieur Erik, I need details about this attack."

"I do not know what happened, monsieur. I was knocked out by Hector Chaffee and don't remember anything else."

"So that one there," the Chief of Police gestured to Hector's body, "is Hector Chaffee, the man searching for Loralee Donoghue?"

Erik nodded as a young police officer amongst the others spoke up, pointing at Loralee.

"Hey! Isn't she the girl Hector was searching for?"

Loralee looked up and nodded slowly, her eyes not leaving Erik's.

"Mademoiselle Loralee Donoghue, we'll have to question you first."

Loralee nodded, and not moving from her embrace with Erik, started explaining in detail what happened. She started to cry again and this time Erik growled when she mentioned getting hit by Hector. The free hand of his became protectively tighter around her waist.

"So let me get this straight, mademoiselle," the Chief of Police said after she finished explaining. "You ran away from Hector Chaffee because he was abusing you and you even have scars on your body to prove it. You then disguised yourself as Beth McLay at the Opera House and became the Phantom's messenger when Madame Giry gave you her job. Hector would always come back looking for you and abused you each time he saw you. Then Vincent Badeau had fallen for you, but you were already in love. Tonight, you came here with the Phantom to talk when Hector came in, knocked Erik out when he was distracted, and then bound you up so you had to watch Hector beat up Erik. Then Vincent comes in just as Hector was about to kill the Phantom. They make you decide who to go with, and you say neither making Hector shoot Vincent and almost kill the Phantom if Vincent hadn't shot Hector in the head."

"That's correct, Monsieur," she said. Loralee had purposely left out her confession of love to Erik and their kiss because she felt that was quite personal.

"Well, it seems that both the guilty people have died tonight at their own hands. Monsieur Edward Badeau will not be happy at the news of his sons early death, and I'm not sure there's anybody to mourn Hector Chaffee."

He turned back to Erik and Loralee.

"Thank you both. We can take you to the hospital and check over your wounds. I'll also give word to the world to stop hunting for the both of you.

"Thank you," Loralee said, before laying her head on Erik's chest. Erik was about to say something, but Madame Giry beat him to it.

"I think it best that I just take care of them both here. I know how to help the minor wounds they both have."

The Chief of Police nodded and allowed Madame Giry, Meg, Christine, and Raoul to visit Erik and Loralee if they wanted to.

Madame Giry and Meg rushed over, helping Erik and Loralee up. Meg untied Loralee's binds from her hands and feet, and after Loralee was free of them, she went into a tight embrace with Erik. She buried her face in his neck while he rested his now fully uncovered cheek against her smooth black hair, hands tight around her shaking body. He only looked up when some one tapped him on the shoulder. Madame Giry was smiling at him with his wig and mask in her hand.

Erik let go of Loralee while he quickly covered up his face. Luckily no police officers had seen his deformity, and the only people who had seen it didn't scream in fright, because they had all seen it before.

While Loralee was hugging Meg, Erik thanked Madame Giry and turned to face Christine who was smiling at him.

"I take it went well with you and Loralee, then?" she asked, eyebrow raised. Erik couldn't help but grin. Loralee came up besides him and looked at Erik questioningly.

"What do you mean, 'it went well'?" Loralee asked.

"Let's just say I told Christine my true feelings towards you before I told you."

Loralee's mouth fell open and then understanding hit her.

"Oh! So that's why you were both acting so calm around each other? You both new that Erik liked me?"

Christine covered her giggle with a hand at Loralee's disbelieving face, and Erik just grinned down at Loralee. Loralee stared up at him.

"Damn you!" she said to Erik, just making him grin wider.

"I love you, too," Erik said to Loralee before kissing her gently upon the tip of her nose. Loralee's confused and flustered face soon after broke out into a sheepish grin as she pulled him down by his cravat in a full kiss on the lips. Christine smiled at the two of them, walking back over to a rather amazed and uncomfortable looking Raoul.

"There's nothing to fear, my love," she said to him, hugging him close. "He's found his true love."


	29. Until My Dying Day

**Sorry I couldn't post yesterday! I was busy after school and then my mom and I rented "Les Miserables" to watch (the 10th Anniversary movie). **

**Ethalas Tuath'an: Ooh! I love the musical Wicked even though I haven't seen it. I've read the book and basically memorized the soundtrack, though, and it's coming to Boston this spring so I might go see it! Yes, I do feel sorry for Vincent because of what I did for him in the last chapter, but at least Loralee and Erik are happy.**

**Phantoms' Lobo: I totally agree with you - I also hate people who try and take Erik's girl away from him. And there's actually going to be this chapter and an epilogue left, not just one chapter. You might give me something! Ooh, wonder what it'll be. . . **

**LittleMollysheart: Hmm, well this weekend I most likely won't have time to review your story, but maybe some other time. I'm sorry and hoped you stayed patient while waiting for this late chapter.**

**HiddenOperaAngel: Don't we all wish we had Erik instead of the people in our stories? It's not fair he's a fictional character. . .**

Chapter Twenty Nine: Until My Dying Day

Loralee walked down a hallway of the Opera House, three months after the disastrous Masquerade. The memory of Vincent and Hector's dead and bloody bodies lying lifelessly on the floor still haunted her, but she had managed to push the memory into a far corner of her mind with help from Erik.

Erik.

Oh, how she loved him. He would allow her to sleep in Christine's old bed, now officially hers according to Erik, and he'd always be by her side when she'd wake up screaming from a nightmare. Slowly, with his soothing and comforting words, Loralee regained peaceful sleep, and he helped her everyday to forget her past with Hector.

After the incident, also, almost all of the Opera House knew of the Phantom. They found out that he was dubbed innocent by the Vicomtess and slowly welcomed him to their practices and shows when they knew he wouldn't send them any more notes or drop any more chandeliers. It was a large change for Erik, and with Loralee's help he managed to even get a part in the next Opera as the lead singer.

He was now safe from the public, he was now free from his obsession over Christine, and he now had a woman to love with his whole heart. Loralee almost cried to see him so happy.

Humming, she absently ran her fingers across the wall as she stepped lightly down the hallway on the wonderful Saturday morning. Most of the Opera House was still sleeping, but Loralee desired a little romp about the place.

Tomorrow Christine would be coming over with Raoul to visit Erik and Loralee. Christine had immediately become Loralee's friend and Erik also was becoming more and more comfortable. The other day Loralee had happily announced Erik and Christine brother and sister which Raoul had looked horrified at, making the three of them crack up.

Raoul was slowly getting over his loathing for Erik, and was actually turning into a real challenge with Erik when it came to chess. While Christine and Loralee would gossip about different topics, Erik and Raoul would be leaning over a chessboard, concentrating heatedly over each others moves. Besides chess, they were turning out to be great friends.

Meg and Madame Giry would sometimes come down to Erik's lair to visit Erik and Loralee. It was with the help of Meg that all of the Opera Populaire knew that Loralee and the Phantom were courting each other and loved each other deeply.

The reaction of the Opera Populaire to this news frightened both Erik and Loralee but they were cleared of their fears when they came up the next day to a large cake dedicated to the Phantom and Loralee's love. Erik was quite amused at their unnecessary congratulations and Loralee was embarrassed beyond belief.

Carlotta had left the Opera House as soon as Erik was reported to have one of the lead parts in the upcoming opera Faust. Messieurs André and Firmin were quite upset at first, but then Abigail Winchcombe, a young singer from England, stepped up to be Prima Donna. Loralee even gave Erik permission to teach her to sing, now knowing that he wouldn't fall for another obsession.

Loralee walked up onto the stage, gazing out at all the seats and boxes, once again awed at it's beauty. Her gaze flickered up to Box 5 and the picture of Hector and Vincent came back into her mind.

Hector was buried quietly and lonely, no one volunteering to mourn for him after hearing what he had done to Loralee. Vincent, how ever, died an innocent and heroic death, so he therefore got a larger and more elaborate funeral. Loralee had insisted on going because she felt terribly guilty for Vincent's death. Before he was buried, she slipped his engagement ring onto his finger and kissed his cold forehead. Edward Badeau, who she finally met, forgave her. Loralee was glad he did because she didn't know if she was ever going to forgive herself.

Today, though, was the first day she said she could start wearing colors again and stop mourning in black clothes over Vincent. She had took the opportunity to wear the first dress she ever got from the Opera Populaire: the dark red one with black lace.

Just as she was about to turn and exit down the stage, a familiar pair of black gloved hands wrapped around her. She leaned into the familiar chest and breathed in the familiar smell of mystery.

"Hello darling," Erik said into her ear, moving his mouth lower so he could kiss her neck. She giggled and didn't stop Erik as he pulled the pins out of her hair, letting it fall down about her face. When Erik swung Loralee around in his hands and continued to kiss her neck, she pulled away gently.

"Not on the stage, Erik. Not where everybody could see us."

"I don't care," he growled, pulling her back to him and kissing her full on the lips. She sighed into him while kissing. Erik had changed so much from being the quiet and mysterious ghost to being a normal and brave human being.

He pulled apart from the kiss first, smiling down upon her.

"I see you've ended your mourning for Vincent," Erik said, looking at her dress.

"Yes, I've decided to wear this dress. It's my favorite. You know why?" Loralee asked him, her forehead pressed against his.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because it's the dress I wore when I first saw you in the chapel."

Erik looked thoughtful.

"Hmm. . . I suppose you're right. Yes, now I can remember. You looked stunning in it then, also. I was just too stupid to notice."

Loralee giggled and kissed him shortly on the lips. He only pulled her back in for another kiss which was longer and much more passionate.

"I love you," Erik said in-between kisses, his hands running through her black hair. She smiled and looked at him.

"I love you, too."

"I would sing out my love for you now, even!" he said, backing away slightly from Loralee.

"Would you now?" Loralee asked, eye brow raised. Her answer was a sly smile from Erik as he spun her around so that he back was pressed against his front. It almost made Loralee jump when he started to sing softly in her ear.

His singing, if possible, was even more beautiful than his already magical speaking. It made her forget everything around her and give her wings to fly with up in the clouds. The softness and love in his voice made her shiver and her eye lids droop. His hands now rubbing her abdomen were soothing like his voice as he sang his love out to the empty stage.

_Never knew I could feel like this_

_Like I've never seen the sky before_

_I want to vanish inside your kiss_

_Every day i'm loving you more than this_

_Listen to my heart, can you hear it sings_

_Telling me to give you everything_

_Seasons may change, winter to spring_

_But I love you until the end of time_

_Come what may_

_Come what may_

_I will love you until my dying day!_

As he finished singing the chorus, the words just seemed to form in her mind as she sang in return, her voice definitely not as captivating as his, but considerably good for her normally average singing style.

_Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place_

_Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace_

_Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste_

_It all revolves around you_

Erik joined her then, their voices combining as Erik turned her around in his arms so that they were singing face to face.

_And there's no mountain too high_

_No river too wide_

_Sing out this song I'll be there by your side_

_Storm clouds may gather_

_And stars may collide_

_But I love you until the end of time_

_Come what may_

_Come what may_

_I will love you until my dying day!_

_Oh, come what may, come what may_

_I will love you, I will love you_

_Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place_

_Come what may_

_Come what may_

_I will love you until my dying day!_

Just after they finished singing on a very powerful note, their voices combining strongly and creating a beauty unseen in any other Opera, Erik slipped something into Loralee's hand.

She looked down and her eyes widened when she saw a small dark red velvet box, a black ribbon tied around it. She had an idea of what it was he was giving her but just to be sure she untied the ribbon and opened the box.

There, on the red velvet, sat the most beautiful ring she had ever seen.

It was a plain silver band with a sparkling white colored opal stone in the center, two sapphires flanking it on either side. Upon seeing it, Loralee almost broke down sobbing. She did let a tear slip out of her eye when Erik went down on his knee, on the stage, and took the ring from her, looking her straight in the eye.

"Will you marry me, Loralee? Will you love me until my dying day?"

She hadn't expected this, just like she hadn't expected Vincent proposing to her at the Masquerade, but at least she knew the answer to this proposal with every single ounce of her heart.

He was even on his knee!

"Yes!" she almost shouted, tears of happiness now tumbling down her cheeks. "Yes, I will marry you, Erik. I will love you not till your dying day, but for eternity."

Erik smiled at her happily, getting off his knee, and standing up so he could kiss Loralee before slipping the ring onto the appropriate finger.

Just after he slipped it on and leaned in for another kiss, the sound of someone clapping broke their wonderful moment. They looked over, rather irritated to see a young maid smiling and clapping at the two of them on the stage.

"Bravo, bravo!" she shouted out. "Congratulations! I'll go tell the cook to make an extra big cake for today!"

With that, the maid left a stunned Erik and Loralee all alone once more on the stage. Erik was the first to look back at Loralee.

"Well, I say that just proved that every bit of news gets around the Opera Populaire quicker than any other place. My bet is that by this afternoon the majority of the Opera Populaire will know of our engagement."

Loralee looked back and smiled at him.

"We'll get cake this way, though," she pointed out. Erik just laughed and pulled her in for another kiss, this time picking her up and twirling her around the stage.


	30. Epilogue

**OMG! Shoot me now! I feel _horrible_ for not posting in such a long time. I was busy all weekend and lately have been a bit too obsessed with doing my homework and projects perfectly - I'm really feeling the unnecessary lack of sleep. But any ways, thanks all for being so patient and hope you enjoy the _last_ chapter in "The Nightingale's Journey." **

**_Important!_ Many of you have asked me to write another fan fiction. Currently I have no idea of another story to write, so if people would be kind enough to give me some ideas of a PotO story in the reviews or by e-mailing me at I'd love you forever even if I didn't use your idea. I'm thinking more of a Erik/Christine one this time or a sequel to this story, I just need ideas, inspiration, and more sleep. Thanks sooooo much! **

**PhantomLover05: A lot of people have been saying that - I'm so happy!**

**Ethalas Tuath'an: Well, they're not married _yet_, but I'll just say VERY soon! Oh, and silly me: The song from the last chapter is "Come What May" from the movie Moulin Rouge. I just think it's a very pretty love duet.**

**Erik'sLittleLotte: Ah! Not the ending yet! Read on!**

**Phantoms' Lobo: Ooh! Thanks for the chicken. I haven't had chicken nuggets in a long time and absolutely love them! Yum! Here's the last chapter.**

**LittleMollysheart: Yeah! Another sucker for romantic stories! Even though I wrote this story, I still love that chapter.**

**AngelOfMusic: Yes, I agree. It was sad having Vincent die. He was so heroic and saved Erik! And thanks for giving me _loads_ of inspiration for thinking of writing another story!**

**FFAMasquerade2005: Thanks so much! I love it when people think my story amazing - and my, do I sound arrogant right now. Anyway, thanks so much! **

Epilogue

The wedding day had arrived.

Erik was now standing up by the alter, fiddling with his cuffs and constantly shifting his weight from one leg to the other. His best man, Nadir (who he found and became great friends with again a little bit after proposing to Loralee), put a steady hand on Erik's twitching shoulder.

"Calm down, Erik. You love her, don't you?"

"Yes!" he said, getting agitated at nothing.

"She loves you?"

"She's says so multiple times a day."

"So there, you've made a great choice and it's going to work out perfectly."

Erik just glared at Nadir but calmed down a small fraction. Instead of looking at his cuffs, he managed to sweep his eyes over the seats of the church.

Erik and Loralee had decided to make it a small wedding. Only close friends from the Opera Populaire, the small bit of family Loralee could locate in Ireland, Christine and Raoul and their new baby Charles, and what ever other friends they both had.

The only problem was that living in the Opera House meant everybody knew when and where the wedding was going to be, so almost half of the buildings population arrived uninvited. Seeing them all crowded into the small church in a town outside of Paris made Erik even more nervous.

The priest was a rather small fellow who was going bald. He was extremely kind, though, even though Erik didn't have the fondest thoughts for God.

Finally, after what seemed a lifetime, the traditional organ music came on, and Erik was at least glad that the musician playing it, Monsieur Reyer, was good at the loud instrument.

Then the doors opened and Meg, Loralee's best maid, came through dressed in a pale purple dress with a large purple rose pinned in her hair. Finally Loralee came through and it took Erik a lot of strength to keep from bursting with glee.

Her dress was a dazzling white with a top that fitted around her tightly. The sleeves were off the shoulder and made of a soft lacy material, crystals sewed in at random. The bodice was embroidered all over with swirls and roses, the silver thread shinning in the light. The bottom poofed out around her. The bottom layer was a shimmery silk and the top was the same lacy material as the sleeves. The lacy layer, how ever, was split in the front and went back to make a train a few feet behind her. The face was yet again covered by the same lacy material.

And for once, he noticed, she wasn't hiding her scars out in public and didn't seem to care.

Her father, who was in a crisp suit besides Loralee, was giving her off to Erik. They found him in Ireland after a bit of searching, and it was quite a shock to finally find out what happened to his long lost daughter. Getting beaten by her fiancé, becoming ballet mistress at the Opera Populaire, almost getting killed but instead seeing two men get shot, and then marrying the legendary Phantom of the Opera. It's not exactly the story every father wants to hear his child is experiencing.

None the less, Conall Donoghue agreed to give off his daughter.

Loralee's little sister, Nessa, was also there, acting as flower girl and throwing petals from the blood red roses Erik bought onto the walk way before Loralee. She was a little beauty and almost a young adult, her fair black hair and sparkling blue eyes giving her much beloved attention from the Opera Populaire. Erik preferred the Donoghue's dusky blue eyes these days, though, and he was now staring at a pair intensely as they made their way up to stand besides him.

The service went by in a blur. Erik could care less to what the priest was saying and could only look into Loralee's eye. Nadir had to nudge him out of his trance when it was time for him to put the ring on Loralee's finger. He could barely see her through the veil but could tell that she was smiling brightly.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Erik, who had waited for this moment all his life, now lifted up his shaking hands and lifted her veil from her pale face. They just looked at each other for a few moments before Erik cupped Loralee's head in his hands and leaned in for a gentle yet passionate kiss.

Their first kiss as a married couple.

Cheers went out from the crowd as Loralee and Erik raced down the isle, getting into the carriage and waving to a few people while driving off. Once everybody was out of sight Erik and Loralee laid back against the seat.

"So, Madame Donoghue, how does it feel to be a married women?"

While marrying, they had just kept Loralee's last name and used it as Erik's sir name, seeing that he never was given one as a child.

"It feels like heaven, Monsieur Donoghue."

She giggled at the name when she finally was able to say it.

"Monsieur Donoghue," Erik said, testing out his new name. "Hmm. . . I'll have to get used to it."

"Sorry it couldn't have been french, but you'll just have to stick with the Irish name."

"I've taken a liking to Irish people, you know?" Erik said, wrapping his hands around her and kissing her neck. Loralee giggled and leaned her head sideways so he had better access to her pale skin. "And thank you for wearing your hair down today."

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

"Calm down, Erik!"

Christine and Madame Giry were trying to keep Erik from running to the door when another agonizing scream echoed out from the next room and into the place where he was waiting.

"I have to go to her!" Erik said, eyes fixed on the door.

"No you don't!" Madame Giry said, shoving Erik down into a chair where he finally sat still, listening with all his might.

Another minutes went by when there was another scream and Erik was out and to the door before Raoul, Nadir, Christine, Meg, or Madame Giry could stop him. Erik pounded on the door when he found out it was locked.

"Let me in! I need to see Loralee!" he said out loud. Nadir came over and stopped Erik's infernal pounding. Erik did calm down a bit when a voice drifted over from the other room.

"Just a moment, Monsieur!"

Erik leaned against the wall near the door, eyes clenched shut and hands fidgeting with his marriage ring band. It had been a year since their splendid marriage and they still loved each other unconditionally.

Right now Loralee was even giving birth to a sign of their love and it was driving Erik mad.

When the door opened, Erik hurried over as quick as lightening, staring at the doctor intently.

"Did everything go all right? Is my wife fine? Is it a boy or a girl?"

The doctor held up his hand to silence Erik's questions.

"All I can say is congratulations, Monsieur, it's a girl."

Erik nearly sang out for joy as he was beckoned in by the doctor. Looking over, Erik saw Loralee propped up in the bed, clearly exhausted, holding a bundle of white blankets.

"She's so pretty," Loralee said, as Erik walked over, tears threatening to spill over any second. She held the bundle out to him and Erik took it with the gentle hands.

Looking inside he promptly let out a sob, sinking down onto the bed next to Loralee.

She was adorable. No scar, no deformation, just pure beauty.

The baby was rather small for a new born with the palest skin much like his mother. The face was almost all Loralee's also except for the sparkling green eyes and full lips of Erik. It even had a tuft of raven hair showing faintly.

Erik smiled down at it, tracing his finger down it's chin.

"Hello, my daughter," he said. As if the child understood, she reached out her small hand with long fingers like Erik's and grasped his finger, her grasp soft and loving. Then she broke out in a smile, giggling.

Her giggle was just as musical as Erik's. With training in the future Loralee and Erik could see their little baby singing the rest of Paris to shame. Erik handed her back to Loralee only when she started crying to be fed.

While Loralee nursed her, Erik kissed her softly on the lips.

"Congratulations, Madame Donoghue. You're a mother now!"

"What should we name her?" Loralee asked as they both smiled down at the beautiful girl.

"How about Aimeé Donoghue."

"And for a middle name, how about Belle after Belle from Beauty and the Beast."

"Perfect. Aimeé Belle Donoghue."

The others now came in, being lectured by the doctor to only stay for a little while because Loralee needed her rest.

"May I see her?" Meg asked, holding out her hands. Loralee nodded, giving her to Erik. Erik got up and went over to the others, reluctantly placing the now sleep Aimeé in Meg's arms. Everybody obsessed over her beautiful sleeping form, Madame Giry almost in tears.

"She has most of her mothers features," Raoul commented, as he picked up Aimeé.

"What's her the little angel's name?" Nadir asked, now getting to hold her.

"Aimeé Belle Donoghue," Loralee and Erik said simultaneously.

Next, Madame Giry held Aimeé.

"Oh, Erik! She has your hands and mouth!"

Christine was the last one to hold her.

"Such a beauty. I imagine her voice is magical." Erik nodded and smiled back at Loralee, who looked at him, too. They looked back when their came a yelp from Christine.

"Her eyes! She has your eyes too, Erik! Such a beauty!"

The rest crowded around and stared at Aimeé's newly opened eyes, gasping and saying "Hello!" to her as she just stared at them in confusion. When she started to cry, Christine handed her back to Erik.

As soon as little Aimeé was in Erik's arms and saw his face, she stopped crying, smiling and giggling again, batting at his mask.

"You know, whenever you're around her you're going to have to take off that damn mask," Loralee yawned, taking back Aimeé.

"Why?" Erik asked.

"She'll have to grow up with it, used to the sight of the real you. And besides, it must get hot and itchy behind that bloody piece of porcelain."

Erik waited until everybody, including the doctor, was out of the room before sitting down besides Loralee and taking off his mask. Loralee kissed his deformed face before positioning Aimeé so that she was looking exactly at Erik's face.

Aimeé looked like she could care less and just smiled at him again. This made Erik start crying over again and he wiped away the tears, kissing Aimeé's little forehead before settling back to sing a song he heard Loralee sing a while ago.

"_Nightingale _

_Sing us a song _

_Of a love that once belonged _

_Nightingale _

_Tell me your tale _

_Was your journey far too long? _

_Does it seem like I'm looking for an answer _

_To a question I can't ask _

_I don't know which way the feather falls _

_Or if I should blow it to the left _

_Nightingale _

_Sing us a song _

_Of a love that once belonged _

_Nightingale _

_Tell me your tale _

_Was your journey far too long?_

_All the voices that are spinning' around me _

_Trying to tell me what to say _

_So can I fly right behind you _

_And you can take me away_

_All the voices that are spinning' around me _

_Trying to tell me what to say _

_So can I fly right behind you _

_And you can take me away_

_You can take me away"_

Loralee recognized it as the song she'd sang as her addition into the Opera House Chorus and also the song she sang throughout their honey moon in Italy. She smiled at him and they kissed. The doctor walked in during the kiss and cleared his throat, making Loralee and Erik jump apart.

"Celebration should be held later and not in front of the baby. You're parents now so you'll have a few things in life to change. If you could leave please, Monsieur Donoghue. You're wife is in need of some sleep along with. . . ?"

"Aimeé Belle Donoghue," Erik said, getting up. The doctor nodded and wrote the name down on what must be the birth certificate. Erik went over to the door, turning around to Loralee when he got to it.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too," she said, smiling, a tear slipping out of the corner of her eye.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

And so Loralee and Erik finally started a family. They lived beneath the Opera House in Erik's lair most of the time but also bought a house in the country house which they went to when not active with the Operas. Erik became a well known, respected, and favored singer in Paris and became the highlight of many Opera with his ethereal and enchanting voice. Loralee continued to be ballet mistress, but hired Meg as a helper while she raised Aimeé.

Aimeé was now the biggest hit in the Opera Populaire. People Loralee and Erik didn't even know came to give gifts to the growing girl. They even pronounced her the future prima donna and they hadn't even heard her sing.

Aimeé's ramblings and cries were enough to show Erik and Loralee that she would have an amazing voice, and it brought both to the brink of tears when one rainy morning Aimeé said her first word in an enchanting voice like Erik's. Both were also amused that the first word happened to be "phantom."

She started singing when she was four and playing the organ in Erik's lair when she was five. She had his same musical genius for both and a little of Loralee's ballet talent. Aimeé was in her first Opera when she was seven even though it was a minor role. She still managed to get more bouquets of flowers than most of the other members. Sometimes Erik and Loralee were afraid they were spoiling her too much, but at least they knew Amieé would have a thriving life in the Opera Populaire when she grew up.

Erik wrote some more Operas which he sold anonymously. He didn't want too much attention from the public which Loralee understood perfectly. Loralee didn't have a well known career but didn't mind the least. She'd even sometimes go back to her "Freedom Room" in the Opera House and dance for Erik or teach Aimeé.

But together, now a family, Loralee, Erik, and Aimeé Donoghue lived on in the Paris Opera House safely.

THE END


End file.
